Before Sunset
by Schildkroete
Summary: Sequel to 'Communication'. The Master has to find a way to save the Doctor who's lost the ability to regenerate while the Doctor searches for the proof that the universe is still worth fighting for. AU!Master, NC and slash. Also contains timeagent!Jack.
1. Chapter 1

It was silent inside the TARDIS. The gentle humming of the engines only underlined the absence of any other sound. Even the Master's loud footsteps did nothing to chase the silence away; he hated the way they echoed in the halls.

It had been silent before. He and the Doctor, they had never spoken, not once, in all the time they'd spend together since he'd found his old friend again and they'd kissed, caught between a fountain and a murderous crowd. But he'd heard the Doctor talk to the TARDIS or himself, heard him wander through the corridors, heard him breathe. Even if he heard nothing, in the rare hours when the other man slept and all was still it was never silent. It was different now. The TARDIS seemed empty, the Master's presence not enough to fill it with life. For the first time he was aware of the impossible size of the ship and he felt like he was all alone in an endless, empty space. The sounds he caused seemed at the same time dull and impossible loud, making him feel like the intruder he was. Even the sounds of the ship itself seemed subdued, quiet. As if it didn't dare interrupt the stillness of this place.

The outer doors cluttered loudly as he pulled them open, revealing the planet Cobsar in the distance, right now a dark silhouette in front of its sun. From here it looked normal, unremarkable, and it was – the only thing that made it interesting was the fact that it would chase to exist in less than a day.

But the moment hadn't come yet. The Master imagined the surface of the planet, imagined the survivors of the last war running around like headless chicken, trying to escape their inevitable fate or entirely ignorant of it, and felt something like anticipation. He'd piloted the Doctor's TARDIS off that world but had not left the system. A few more hours and the world would be torn apart, and he didn't want to miss that.

But not yet. He closed the doors and left the console room to wander through the corridors, through the silence. It was cold. Colder than before, he was constantly wearing a coat now. His first thought had been that maybe his new cobsarian body was used to higher temperatures, but that planet had about the same climate as Earth. No, it had been the TARDIS, gradually lowering the temperature to gallifreyan standard. Since a Time Lord could adjust to pretty much any climate the ship's internal temperature was usually made to be acceptable for whoever was currently travelling with the Doctor, including him. But now the sentimental old thing seemed determined to make it as comfortable as possible for her Doctor, as if he'd notice.

In the infirmary the silence seemed even thicker, despite the constant beeping of the machines. The Master saw at once that the Doctor had not moved in the passed hours; He hadn't expected him to. Since they had returned here two days ago the other Time Lord had not stirred. The Master had already performed surgery twice, doing his best to save his enemy's life. Still the number of broken bones and internal injuries left him feeling helpless and angry. Defeated.

There was little he could do.

No Time Lord should exist in such a state. This close to death the Doctor should have long since regenerated and the Master didn't quite understand why he hadn't.

Checking the monitors confirmed that nothing had changed. The Doctor's state had not improved, but at least it hadn't gotten any worse either. He was still deeply unconscious, needed artificial respiration and one of is hearts wasn't beating despite the Master's best efforts. Dark lashes resting on pale cheeks and for a moment the Master despised him for the fact that without him the ship seemed so empty.

He didn't take the other's hand because that would be a silly thing to do. He had programmed the systems to alert him the moment anything changed and didn't understand why he was still here.

To justify his presence he checked the monitors again, ran a few new programs –

And froze.

"No, no…" he whispered. Checked again. Couldn't believe it while everything made perfect sense.

"Stupid," he cursed, suddenly unable to move. "Oh, you stupid, stupid little boy!"

When his gaze fell on the Doctor again he felt ready to strangle him. Wrap his hands around that slender throat and squeeze until he was gone. But that would be the end. If he killed him now, the Doctor would not regenerate. He would not regenerate ever again.

In his effort to keep the machine running, down on the planet whose destruction the Master could not await, in his effort to keep the artificial realities from collapsing, to save the universe, the Doctor had used up all his strength. Every last bit. Including the energy needed for regeneration. It was gone. All gone.

And there was no way to replace it.

All the Doctor had left were the very last reserves that kept him alive, and in a body this broken they were not much use. If the Master switched off those machines he would die within minutes. But even if he recovered eventually, even if he could save this one life, in the long run he was lost. All of a sudden he'd run out of second chances.

The Master swallowed dryly. He found himself remembering that moment lifetimes ago, when he'd been in his last body and dying – running out of time after a ridiculously short life. Back then he'd felt desperation, fury – and determination. Determination not to let it end like this, convinced that he deserved more than a few pathetic centuries. It was a determination that gave him the strength to trigger a thirteenth regeneration. One that left him in a disgusting, corps-like form, but gave him the chance to find another body to use. And it had served him well.

But that was not a way the Doctor would go. And the Master couldn't chose for him, not this time. All he had left were the fury and the desperation.

Helplessness.

It wasn't a feeling he was used to. It fuelled his anger but that anger had no direction.

"You are not dying on me, you bastard!" he hissed, his fingers clasping around the Doctor's cold hand against his will.

-

Four hours later the planet called Cobsar was torn apart in front of his eyes. The Master watched the spectacle with a feeling of cold satisfaction.

-

Another week passed before the Doctor regained consciousness. Living in a world of pain he needed no explanations about his state and could barely follow the Master's words when he spoke to him. It felt odd, something was wrong with the way the Master sat beside his bed and talked to him without expecting an answer, but the Doctor couldn't put his finger on it. It was too hard to concentrate on the words. In the end the Doctor gave up and let the Master's voice lull him back to sleep.

He lost every sense of time while he drifted in and out of sleep for days. Sometimes he felt the Master's presence at his side, sometimes he was alone. Sometimes the pain was so strong he felt like dying, sometimes everything was dulled by painkillers. They caused his thoughts to be even more confused than the rest of the time but didn't kill the pain completely, merely made it bearable.

"I can't give you more than that," the Master said one day, looking down on him indifferently. "You're body can't take it." The Doctor didn't find the strength to answer.

Sometimes he woke up, hardly able to breathe, other times a machine was doing it for him. Most of the time he was asleep, reliving his past in confused dreams. Once, when he woke up alone, he panicked, suddenly unsure weather the Master had really been here of if it had all been a dream and he was still alone. Other times he woke up to the other man's voice and wondered if he was still dreaming. Because he couldn't feel his presence as another Time Lord he could never tell what was real.

It took time for him to recall what had happened down on that planet. Bit by bit he remembered the terrible war going on, and the brave and kind people he'd met, and he remembered the fake realities in which everyone was happy and alive. He also remembered his decision to destroy all that, to let the planet and all its people die. It would have been destroyed anyway, taking the entire universe with it, but in the end it had been him who had sacrificed the world. Who had seen those people living their life in peace and decided that no, it couldn't be.

And he cried silently, cursing the universe that forced such choices on him again and again.

-tbc

September 16, 2007


	2. Chapter 2

A giant crowd had assembled, thousands and thousands of people, all laughing and crying and talking and hugging and being all together ridiculously happy. In fact it was it was one of the happiest masses of people the Master had ever seen – maybe because he avoided those in general. Beside him the Doctor was looking down on them with a wide grin, occasionally beaming at him in a way that said Isn't it wonderful?

It certainly was. Only, the Master couldn't care less.

They were currently on the planet Aakaare, in the year 2202 of this world's calculation of time. It would also be the year 0 of its new calculation of time, but no-one here knew that yet. Two days ago a war between Aakaare and its neighbouring planet, an old colony, that had been going on for more than five decades had finally ended and the separated worlds had been reunited. Families that had been torn apart, friends living on different worlds, unable to meet, all of them could come together now. Prisoners could finally come home, and meet their children who'd grown up while they were gone. A lot of tears flowed this day down there on the endless field of the spaceport. Centuries from here the descendants of these people would look back on this point in history with pride.

To the Master it was all rather annoying.

The Time Lords were standing on one of the towers, looking down on the crowd, observing everything without being part of it. The Doctor had insisted on coming here without explaining why. There was no obvious reason. There was nothing to be done here, no evil to be fought, nothing at all happening, aside from a million people being loud. A few days before they had been to the opening ceremony of the Olympic games on Earth, somewhere in the fourth millennium, the first Olympic games after the whole earth had been united. It had been a terribly sappy event where everyone had been equally happy. That time there had been no explanation as well, other than that the Doctor wanted to go there.

The Master knew why. In the end it wasn't terribly hard to guess. He knew his Doctor after all.

He'd seen his reaction to being responsible for another planet's destruction. It had been necessary, but the Doctor hated himself for it. And it hadn't been the first time he'd had to do something like that. Wherever he went he was confronted with decisions that tore him apart. This silly journey from one happy event to another was simply an attempt to convince himself that this universe was still worth saving. He needed to see what he was fighting for.

In the Master's eyes saving the universe in particular and doing good in general was a waste of time. But at the same time he wanted the Doctor to keep fighting. He needed something to live for.

Below them, lost in and ignored by the crowd stood the TARDIS in all its phone box glory. The Master eyed it longingly – the sun was burning down on him and he was bored – and thought it would be hard to get back there through all the people.

"Seen enough yet?" he wanted to know. The Doctor grinned at him.

"Let's have ice-cream!" he said happily. The Master rolled his eyes, but followed him as he made his way down the tower and through the spaceport, towards the city.

-

It took so effort but eventually they managed to get a ride to town. It wasn't very far but the Doctor tired easily and running around for more than a few minutes left him exhausted beyond belief. He was in a good mood today, seeming healthy and energetic, but the Master knew it was an illusion. He could tell every time a wave of sickness, a stab of pain came over his friend, by the way his breath caught in his throat, he stopped talking for just a second, or suddenly went pale and quiet. The Doctor never complained, covered it with the enthusiasm that kept him going but the Master knew he would have to pay for it later.

Months had passed since the Doctor had been hurt. He had recovered slowly, looking better one day and close to dying the next. It had been many weeks before he could get out of bed, even more before he could walk on his own. Infections and internal injuries had nearly killed him every time it had seemed like he was finally recovering. The Master had done his best to help him, caring like a nurse – or a wife. The thought still made him grimace.

Even now the Doctor was far from fine. That didn't stop him from hopping through the cosmos again, practically asking for the pain and the sickness that inevitably came the following day. It didn't matter. The exercise wasn't threatening his recovery, because there was no recovery to be threatened. The Doctor was a fine as he would get. He would never again be any better than he was now. His body was too damaged.

Some days he was almost okay, other days he spent lying on his bed, nearly overdosing on painkillers. One of his hearts was beating only irregularly at some times, stopping completely at others. Even now infections threatened to take his life every now and then if they weren't careful. And even now walking hurt, because each of his legs had been broken in at least five places.

He was fragile. The Master knew that any day he could lose him.

Right now he looked like he had before, happily munching his ice-cream, and despite knowing better the Master found himself thinking that maybe he would be feeling just as fine tomorrow.

They were sitting in a small café that was almost empty since everyone else was at the spaceport, celebrating the making of history. The Master was silently devouring his own ice-cream and he had to admit it was the best damn ice-cream he'd ever had.

At least the day wasn't totally wasted.

In the window he could see their reflection: The Doctor tall and skinny in his dark blue suit, not wearing a tie this time and only two layers of shirts, himself in his new body he'd worn for almost an Earth year now: The Doctor's height, not quite as broad shouldered as the last one but still a lot stronger than the other Time Lord. Dark hair and beard. When he'd first stolen this form both of those had been long and wild, but he trimmed them neatly and now looked quite gentlemanly in his dark suit. A look of satisfaction showed on his face. A woman on a neighbouring table glanced over at them and he gave her his most charming smile. She blushed. Yepp, still got it.

He'd had plans back then, before all this happened. He'd wanted to leave the Doctor once they reached a promising location, and the next time they met he would have taken over part of the galaxy, giving his dearest enemy a run for his money. He couldn't go that way anymore. If he left now the Doctor would die; he needed someone to take care of him.

Of course that could be anyone. There was a whole planet full of stupid apes that would do anything for him. But if he was absolutely honest to himself, the Master had to admit that he was scared. If he left, if he let the Doctor out of is sight, he would never know if he was still alive or not. He couldn't tell. He couldn't feel it.

And he would always wonder.

Sitting with his ice-cream in the last warm light of the dying day he was aware of the frailty of the situation. Him and the Doctor, together – it couldn't work. They were meant to be opponents, enemies. In the same place but on different sides. The Master planned something, the Doctor tried to stop him. They met, the Master did his best to make the Doctor's life hell. That was the way it had to be, the way it was _meant_ to be. They complemented each other, because they had nothing in common. Them on the same side, one caring for the other was unnatural. They couldn't exist like this for much longer, he knew. It couldn't work. It was too fragile.

The Doctor was looking into the sunset, relaxed, content. His mood was infecting. Sourly the Master thought: _'When did I become your companion?'_

"Can we go back now?" He didn't even try not to sound like an impatient child.

The Doctor smiled at him when he rose from his chair, a quiet and honest smile that reached his eyes.

They didn't speak as they slowly made their way back to the street. Since today was so special and everyone was happy they had gotten their ice-cream for free. Lucky them – they had nothing to pay with anyway.

While the Master tried to stop one of the cars passing by to take them back to the spaceport the Doctor sat down on a bench. He hadn't said a word for half an hour, and while the Master was well used to silence between them he could tell something was wrong by the way his shoulders slumped and he rested his head on his hands.

The Master wouldn't think of doing something like laying a hand on the Doctor's forehead to check his temperature – it would seem too caring. Walking over, he grabbed one of the Doctor's thin wrists instead. The skin was cool under his touch, but not as cool as it should have been.

By the time they got to the spaceport it was dark. There were still a lot of people about, but not nearly as many as a few hours before. The path to the TARDIS was clear.

Walking over the endless field the Doctor's steps became slow and unsteady until he couldn't keep up with the Master anymore. He was pale and trembling, his eyes gleaming feverishly in the twilight. When the Master stopped to look at him he grinned back, somewhat embarrassed, almost shyly. The Master was overcome by an unexpected feeling of affection.

He also suddenly felt the need to fuck him, basic and raw, a feeling he concentrated on because he could deal with it. He imagined taking him right here, in front of the remaining crowd, showing everyone that he was the master of this creature. The idea had a certain appeal, but wasn't very realistic. With a sigh he went back to the Doctor and simply lifted him off the ground like a child. He was like a paper doll in his arms, weightless, frail. And protesting, which a doll usually did not, but it was only a show of his embarrassment.

"Bedroom or infirmary?" the Master asked, once they were inside.

"Bedroom", the Doctor mumbled and the Master smirked. He never said infirmary, not matter how ill he was. He hated being there, and which sane person didn't?

When it was really bad the Master simply didn't ask.

The other man was breathing hard and irregular by the time the Master reached his room and placed him on the large bed. The Master was rather angry. The Doctor had known it would come to this but no! he had to get out and run around the entire day, on a planet much too warm for him.

The air inside the TARIDS was nearly freezing today. The Master could see his own breath in front of his face.

His irritation grew when he bent down to take off the Doctor's shoes, cursing the fate that had left him in this pathetic and unfitting role.

Another pained gasp from the man on the bed. His body was punishing him for having been careless and the Master wholeheartedly agreed. He would give him something for the pain later. Not yet. He had to earn it first, the Master decided as he sat down beside the Doctor and began to remove the rest of his clothes.

-

The sex was different now, although it hadn't changed. Whenever he felt like it the Master would take him, never asking, and the Doctor never protested. The other Time Lord wasn't tender or loving, he handled the act with some kind of single-minded determination, never showing anything like affection, as if he had to prove to the world that he didn't care for the Doctor at all, that he was merely a tool to satisfy his need.

Most of the time the Doctor didn't mind. Most of the time he didn't need to be loved.

(Except he was almost constantly sick now and his hearts broke easily.)

It was this body of the Master's. Much like a human, constantly driven by its urges and desires. Still, the Master could have suppressed them without effort. He simply didn't want to. (And why would he?)

When he'd woken up in this wreck of a body the Doctor had seen the unfamiliar face at his side and recognized it immediately as the Master. In fact it had taken his dazed and confused mind a few days to realise that it was different from before. In the state he'd been in then the sadness that came with that realisation nearly broke him.

When he thought about it realistically, it hadn't made much difference for the man who had had to die for the Master to live. His planet had blown up shortly after, so he would have died anyway.

The Doctor didn't know if he tried to justify the Master's actions or his own, forgiving him again and again.

He didn't think of that while the Master fucked him (he didn't like the word but there was no other way to describe it). Not too hard but with a certain carelessness that hurt more than the shock that went through his fevered body with every thrust or the stinging pain in his head.

It was different now. The change was subtle.

Before, the Doctor had been stronger than the Master in his human body. He had never done it, but if he'd wanted to he could have stopped him, pushed him away, reversed their roles. He could have. The possibility had always been there. If he wanted to, he could get away.

But he'd never regained that strength. Now he sometimes was too weak to even stand on his own, to sit upright, to lift his head. Now the Master easily overpowered him. If the Doctor ever wanted to stop him he wouldn't be able to. And the Master knew it. He was the one in power, and maybe he needed to demonstrate it. He called himself 'Master', after all. It said a lot about his ego.

It was all about power.

If the Doctor asked him to stop, would he leave him alone? He never tried to find out, not ready to deal with the possibility that no, he wouldn't.

And the truth was the Doctor needed it. He needed to feel him. When the Master wasn't there, when he couldn't see him, he could never tell if he even existed. Only when the Doctor could touch him, felt him deep inside his own body he was real.

It was only natural for the Master to cause him pain.

The Doctor lost every sense of time, slipping into a dazed haze. He barely noticed the Master pulling out, but suddenly he wished more than anything that he would stay with him. Even inside him if he wanted, the Doctor didn't care, if only the Master would stay just for a moment and take him in his arms.

A few seconds later he felt a prick when the other man injected something into his arm before covering him with a blanket. He was too exhausted to open his eyes, but he heard the rustling of clothes, then footsteps and the closing of a door.

Moments later the Doctor fell asleep, and he dreamed of burning worlds and of being alone.

- tbc

September 18, 2007


	3. Chapter 3

A wide field. Hills running through the landscape like waves. A bright, violet sky. An occasional tree, its shadow offering shelter from the sun. A blue box standing on the bluish grass, going surprisingly well with the picture.

The leafs of the trees were rustling in a soft breeze. The air was perfectly clean. It would be another twenty thousand years before intelligent creatures developed on this planet and a hundred thousand before the planet was polluted beyond the capacity to sustain life.

The Master left the Doctor reading a book in the shadow of a tree and wandered down the hill. He needed to get away for a moment, feeling like a prisoner. The urge to get out among the stars and _do something_, stop being bound to this man and his way of life was rising again, as it sometimes did. It usually died the moment he became aware of the fact that if he left the Doctor alone he wouldn't see him ever again.

When had his existence become so dependant on that of his opponent? The Master couldn't tell. It had always been that way.

He shivered a little. It wasn't cold but not especially warm either. The temperature reminded him of a mild Gallifreyan summer – one of the reasons why he'd chosen this location.

They had spent the past week inside the TARDIS and the Master had needed to get out. Not even to do something special, just get out of there and see the sky again. And he'd needed for the Doctor to get out. Both of them had become a bit claustrophobic, and it'd been beginning to show.

So this little trip. Peaceful, insignificant location and time. Not much to do but sit around, sunbathe or run over the fields but it was better than nothing. There were countless more exiting places in the cosmos but for now this had to suffice. The Doctor had been ill for days and the Master wanted to avoid giving him the chance to do anything _stupid_.

The days when he was remotely well were getting even more scarce. The Master had hoped that with time the Doctor's health would at least stabilize in a state of more-or-less-okay. It hadn't. He had lost any illusions long ago, but still felt naked fear at the thought that eventually the Doctor would get weaker and weaker until he died.

And he still didn't really believe it. He knew it would happen but he didn't believe it. There was no room for that idea in his world.

The Master would find a way to save him. He would not be abandoned.

What bothered him was the Doctor's quiet acceptance of his fate. He knew well enough that he would die, and that it would be final. And he was okay with it. The Master missed his fire, his will to survive. Even when he was whimpering in pain or spitting blood or delirious with fever he seemed somehow… at peace. As if he knew that it wouldn't hurt much longer and was looking forward to the end.

Maybe he'd just lived too long, done too much. The Master wasn't familiar with guilt and regret. He'd only ever seen them when he was looking into the Doctor's eyes.

Well, it wasn't like he was going to ask the Doctor weather he _wanted_ to be saved.

They'd been here for a few hours. The TARDIS wasn't much more than two-hundred metres away from the tree they'd been sitting under, but the Master already couldn't see her anymore. Nor could he make out the Doctor from where he was standing. With a sigh he let himself sink into the grass to stare up into the sky. For a while he watched the pinkish clouds drift by and thought of nothing.

When he finally got to his feet again and looked up the hill he could see the Doctor at its peak, looking down on him. He stood perfectly still, a thin, long blanket around his shoulders that was fluttering in the wind. If the blanket had been black, the Master thought, the Doctor would have looked like a dark figure from the world of myths, like the Oncoming Storm, the Bringer of Darkness he'd been named. But it was orange and he only looked young.

Climbing up the hill again the Master noticed him shivering. He shouldn't be cold in this weather.

In all the time they'd spent together The Master had hardly ever asked the Doctor how he felt. It sounded wrong, somehow, not like them. Instead he'd learned to read the signs and judge his state simply by looking at him.

The Doctor was fine, or what counted as fine these days. He was merely tired.

The other Time Lord did not acknowledge the Master's presence, continued staring over the endless fields. No way of telling what he was seeing. When he didn't move the Master stood behind him, so close they were touching. He didn't embrace the other from behind, but he stood close enough for the Doctor to lean against him. After a moment the Doctor did so. Letting his head rest on the Master's shoulder he closed his eyes with a sigh that was both content and sad.

-

Two days later the Master was sitting in one of the libraries, skipping through one book after another, all landing in a growing pile on the floor. He was cursing silently. That the damn fool couldn't have at least one useful book! Something like _How to Get a New Set of Regenerations_ would be nice.

After a few hours the Master gave up. He hadn't really thought he would find anything helpful, but he'd needed to do something. Needed to show to the universe that he wouldn't give up.

As if the universe would care.

As if he'd care if the universe cared.

Anyway.

He left the library without putting the books back to the shelves. The TARDIS would take care of that. Just like she provided clothes and made the beds. Useful little thing. He wished he had one of his own but it had died with Gallifrey.

Just now it would help if the Time Lords had not been erased from time and space. The Master was sure that the High Council knew of a way to save the Doctor. And if they had to give him an entirely new body. The Master himself had gotten one, after all. He would go and terrorize them until they did his will. Although, with Romana being president he probably wouldn't even have to ask. Well, he'd terrorize them anyway. Just for fun.

But they were gone and so were their secrets and their power. There weren't many occasions on which the Master thought 'Oh, if only Gallifrey was still around!' but this was one of them.

Possibly the first.

He'd left the Doctor on the couch in the console room, reading a book. He wasn't very well today but had refused to spend the entire day in bed. So he'd taken some painkillers – quite a lot of painkillers, if the Master recalled correctly – and spend some time attempting to repair his dear old ship, as if that'd ever work. Even after giving up he'd stayed nearby. Maybe he simply didn't want to be alone.

It was the sight of his book that gave the Master the idea of roaming through the library. When he returned to the console room the Doctor had fallen asleep, the book lying on the floor where it had landed after having slipped from his fingers.

The Master considered taking him to his room but didn't want to risk waking him. Instead he covered him with a blanket before sitting down in front of the console himself.

He knew there was a way to save a Time Lord's life. The universe was large, after all. Nothing was impossible.

And he was very determined.

So he flicked so switches and began to work.

-

It was the end of the Earth year 2260. It was warm, which had something to do with them being on a part of the planet where it was warm in December. The Master hadn't bothered to check where exactly.

The TARDIS had landed in an alley in a big city, and even when they'd opened the outer doors had they heard the noise: Everywhere in the streets people were celebrating the end of the year and the beginning of the next, even if said event was still two days away. Music drifted trough every part of the city, people were dancing and singing and getting terribly, unequalled drunk.

And somewhere in this crowd was someone not belonging there. Other than them, of course. Someone from another time. The TARDIS had detected time travel, and more important, had detected a machine that could cause drastic damage to the planet and its people. Not that the Master cared. He still wanted to stop its owner from using it. Because he wanted to use it himself.

A powerful, dangerous thing. Maybe powerful enough to save a Time Lord.

The Master grinned happily as he made his way through the crowd. He could finally do something. The Doctor would survive. Probably there would be bloodshed, which was a bonus. He was in quite a good mood.

Now he only had to find it.

Which wouldn't be easy at all.

The Doctor stopped a few steps ahead of him, looking down the street at a small band playing music on the broad sidewalk. People were dancing, or what counted as dancing these days, all around them, but there was enough room to move. Just.

Of course the Master had not told his fellow Time Lord why they were here. Because of the bloodshed thing. The Doctor would only be difficult. In fact the Master had pretended the TARDIS had gotten here by accident, pretty much like she got everywhere else. (Only she hadn't done that at all lately, not since the Doctor wasn't well, which made the Master think that she wasn't so broken at all. Just evil.)

Just this once he'd hoped that the Doctor would be too ill to accompany him, but of course this was the first time in weeks he was feeling energetic and restless and couldn't wait to get out. So the Master followed him into the streets and didn't know how he could get away without alerting the Doctor or risk losing him. Okay, so this wasn't going perfect. He was still optimistic.

"Care to dance?" he joked when he stepped beside the Doctor. His voice was nearly drowned out by the music but the Doctor still heard it. He glanced at him, smiled, and…

"Why are we here again?"

"The TARDIS got lost," the Master explained patiently. Again.

The Doctor was still smiling, but there was a hint of steel in his voice, when he said:

"And now the truth, please."

The Master cursed silently. His old friend knew him too well. He might have been naïve at times, but he wasn't stupid.

Not to self: The Doctor is not an idiot. Not matter how much he acts like one.

"I thought it would do you good to be around people for a change," he lied.

The Doctor _looked _at him.

"Oh please!" He rolled his eyes. "I suppose that's why you tried so hard to make my stay inside."

Note to self: Next time you lie, be more convincing.

"What are you up to?"

The Master feigned hurt.

"Why should I be up to something? Haven't I been nice and caring for months?"

"After you've been mean and evil for _centuries_!"

"Well, I've changed."

"Hardly."

They made their way through the crowd, not looking where they where going. The Master was just opening his mouth for a clever and convincing lie he was planning to come up with in the next few milliseconds as someone bumped into the Doctor, hard.

The Doctor stumbled backwards and would have fallen, had he not bumped into the Master. The Master grabbed his shoulders to steady him and glared at whoever had had the impudence of not moving out of the way when two Time Lords were too busy to pay attention to unimportant things like people standing around.

"Sorry!" the Doctor said. The man he'd collided with looked up.

"I'm not," he said with a bright and – the Master noticed it with a feeling of instant dislike – seductive smile. He looked the Doctor up and down and smiled even brighter. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, not at all," the Doctor hurried to say. The Master didn't see his face but he could tell from his voice that he was smiling as well. He frowned and tightened his grip on the bony shoulders, even though he knew the Doctor was just being friendly and wouldn't recognize a flirt if it punched him in the face. In fact, he hadn't even looked at the other man properly. The Master could tell it from the way he suddenly stopped moving for a second and said:

"Oh."

Now the Master looked at the guy again and made an effort to see more than the annoying smile and the distractingly colourful clothes. Tall, strong, short dark hair and a body language that said: I'm so going to shag you.

And he thought:

'Oh.'

He was staring into the young and unsuspecting face of Captain Jack Harkness.

Or whatever he called himself these days.

-tbc

September 21, 2007


	4. Chapter 4

If the human noticed the look of surprise – or rather shock – running over their faces he didn't show. For the first time his eyes left the Doctor to look at the man standing behind him. What he saw seemed to please him – the Master wasn't surprised, he knew he was impressive – but his attention wandered back to the Doctor soon enough.

The Master growled.

"Are you going somewhere?" Jack asked. He didn't know who they were. They wouldn't meet for another few years.

How amusing.

"Yes," the Master answered before the Doctor could say anything. "We're in a hurry."

The Doctor didn't correct him. He knew better than to make things more complicated by having an ongoing conversation with someone he hadn't yet met.

"Down at the harbour?" Jack wanted to know. Apparently that was where this street led. Indeed the Master could smell the sea.

"Yes," he said again.

"Well, bad luck," Jack said with a shrug and a glance at the Doctor that said he didn't think it so bad at all. "This road is blocked. But I can show you how to get there is you want. You're not from around here, are you?"

"No, we've come for the party," the Master answered with a grave voice and a dark look. Jack actually laughed a little.

"You two are an item?" he wanted to know. The Master needed a little to get what he was talking about.

"No!" he made clear, but tightened his hold on the Doctor's shoulders. Jack noticed. As did the Doctor. He sighed.

"We really have no time to waste", he said apologetically. "Nice talking to you, but we have to go."

"What's the hurry?" Jack didn't seem at all interested in letting them get away that easily. And the Master hadn't thought that far ahead. Before he could come up with an answer – it would have come down to something like 'None of your business!' – the Doctor said:

"My friend here – and I mean 'friend' in a strictly platonic way – is whining all the time how hungry he is. So we're searching for a restaurant to satisfy his needs."

The Master wondered if he stood too close for a good kick in the Doctor's ass. At Jack he smiled sweetly. And Jack, who obviously also wanted to satisfy his needs, raised his eyebrows.

"I'm afraid you will have a hard time finding anything in this city. All the restaurants would be full."

"That's what I said," the Doctor nodded. "But he kept nagging and nagging – ouch."

The Master smirked. The Doctor wriggled out of his grip.

"Well, you're lucky!" Jack suddenly exclaimed. "I was actually looking for food myself. I know just the place, close to the hotel I'm staying at. It's nearby but far enough from the festivities. I'll show you."

"That's very generous of you…" the Doctor began, and stopped resigned when Captain Jack – I'm-going-to-get-into-your-pants-no-matter-the-cost – Harkness took his arm and led him though the crowd. The Master could only trail behind.

The band continued playing and suddenly, when there was some space around them, the importunate human pulled the Doctor against him and started to dance.

The Doctor let himself be pulled along for a moment.

"Aren't going a bit too fast for a first date?" the Master could hear him say, just before there was a subtle change of pace and the Doctor took lead.

Jack didn't seem bothered by that. If anything he looked even more intrigued.

The Master considered shooting him from a distance.

"If I may interrupt", he said sweetly, stopping them in mid-step. "I'm really starving." He glared at the Doctor, who answered with an amused smirk. He was enjoying himself a bit too much for the Master's liking.

Five minutes later they were sitting in a small, cosy restaurant that was far from empty but still had a table for them. Jack left to order dinner at the counter.

"Are you aware he wants to get into your pants?" the Master whispered to the Doctor while he was gone. The Doctor shrugged, unconcerned.

"It's Jack. He wants into everyone's pants."

"Especially in yours."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"He's actually quite hopeful. And why wouldn't he be, after you've flirted with him all the time?"

"We haven't flirted."

"Doctor, he's been drooling all over you ever since you ran into him. You've been dancing, closely, talking about dates. That's called flirting."

"He acts that way towards everyone. It doesn't mean he's expecting something to come out of it."

The Master rolled his eyes. Sometimes his dear friend was so clueless it hurt.

"He wants to shag you," he said matter-of-factly. "The question is: Are you going to let him?"

Now the Doctor looked genuinely surprised.

"Why would I?"

Until now the Master wouldn't have thought it possible to roll ones eyes with a vague feeling of relief.

"Anyway," the Doctor changed the topic. "You forgot to tell me why we have co…"

He was interrupted by Jack returning to their table. The Master suspected he'd taken a bit longer since he had to flirt with the guy at the counter first. Which was a computer, but in his experience for Jack it was flirtable as long as it could talk.

At least he didn't shag it. That would have been disgusting.

Bad mental image!

The Master shuddered.

"I just noticed I haven't introduced myself yet," Jack suddenly said, offering his hand. To the Doctor. "I'm Fred."

The Master nearly bust out laughing. The Doctor for his part closed his eyes.

"Your name," he said very slowly, "is _not_ Fred."

Jack actually had the decency to look a bit embarrassed.

"What makes you think that?"

"You don't look like a Fred," the Master explained helpfully. "I don't know… I would expect a Fred to be a bit more… blonde."

He wasn't sure at all the Doctor's foot had been placed on his by accident.

"Well, you're right," Jack admitted. "Sorry about that, force of habit. My name's Bill."

"As in _Kill Bill_?" the Master asked innocently. This time _knew _the Doctor was stepping on his foot on purpose. But Jack only grinned. And frowned at the same time. A man of many talents.

"I wouldn't have expected you to know a film from two-hundred years ago."

"Why not? You do know it as well, after all." The Doctor finally took the offered hand and shook it. "I'm the Doctor."

"'The Doctor'?"

"Yes."

"You're only giving me your _title_?" Jack pouted. He had yet to let go of the Doctor's hand. The Doctor gave him a thin smile not entirely without humour.

"Your point being, _Bill_?"

"… And you are?" Jack looked at the Master. Who looked back.

"That's Harry," the Doctor helped. "He's a politician. Well, was. His political way was a bit aggressive and now he's on the run from the press – and the police. Please don't tell anyone."

"I take it you're not from around here either," the Master interrupted, addressing the human. "So where are you from?"

"Toulouse," Jack answered without blinking.

"Oh!" the Doctor exclaimed. "I knew someone from Toulouse once. Well, he was at least as much from Toulouse as you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jack wanted to know, but the Doctor ignored him.

"He didn't give me a refund," he remembered with a frown. Jack looked slightly confused for a moment.

The Doctor had that effect on people.

"Where are _you _from?" Jack wanted to know, and the Master told him something about England when someone came to bring their food. Jack and the Master both had ordered a giant steak and chips, while the Doctor merely got salad and bread.

"You're alright?" Jack enquired. "You look a bit pale."

"It's been a long trip, I'm just tired," the Doctor reassured him. "Besides, I'm a light eater."

"I can see that. You're pretty skinny."

"You don't seem to mind, though," the Master mumbled. Louder he said: "Why did _you_ come here?"

Jack shrugged.

"It's a damn big party. Get drunk, get laid, get away in the morning."

"Welcome in the life of a simple man," the Doctor laughed. Jack nodded.

"That's me. Simple."

"I'm afraid you're treating the wrong people for dinner, though," the Doctor continued. "We're not interested in getting laid."

'_Speak for yourself,'_ the Master thought. He, personally, wouldn't mind a good shag. Just not with Jack.

"Who said I was treating you?"

"Who said we had any money?" The Doctor stole a few of the Master's chips. Jack watched him, no way of telling what he was thinking except the obvious. This was all a waste of time, but the steak was good, and the Master had indeed been hungry.

Besides. If this was during Jack's time agent days he certainly hadn't come here for fun. Maybe there was a way to use him after all.

"Do you have a place to stay?" Jack asked later, when they were stepping out into the street again. By then it was totally dark and the noise had gotten even louder. The Master saw the Doctor grimacing. He probably had a headache. Well, his own fault for coming with him.

"Not yet," he admitted, gaining a surprised and suspicious look from his old friend. "Know any place where they still have rooms?"

"Don't think there is any," Jack said happily. "But I have a very large suite, three rooms and an extra bed. You can stay with me."

"He's not going to sleep with you," the Master pointed out. Jack sighed.

"Are you?" He eyes the Master hopefully.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"A pity. The offer still stands."

"Then we take it. As the Doctor said, we don't have any money."

The Doctor looked like he wanted to say a lot more. Fortunately he didn't.

Reminding the human that his friend was tired the Master insisted on going to the hotel shortly after. The crowd had grown but he wasn't at all sure Jack only took the Doctor's hand to keep him from getting lost.

No-one seemed to care if the Master got lost. Which wasn't his intention, but that wasn't the point.

"Your hand is very cold," Jack pointed out The Doctor smiled broadly.

"I'm an alien," he stated cheerfully. Sometimes the Master wanted to throttle him. This wasn't exactly alien-era-Earth yet.

"Seriously?" Jack didn't seem at all surprised, thinking it a joke, or rather pretending to think it a joke. "And Harry?"

"He's an alien too. But his hands aren't cold."

"He's a different kind of alien then?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"So, you're planning an invasion?"

"I'm not. I wouldn't speak for him though." The Doctor glanced at the Master in a way that said: Are you?

"I'm not interested in this primitive piece of space-rubble," the Master snorted.

"That's not what you said last time."

Jack sighed.

"Admit it," he said with a roll of his eyes. "You're married."

-

The room Jack gave them was large and had a separate bathroom. The human left shortly after letting them in, probably looking for sex somewhere else. The Master didn't miss him.

"He's annoying!" he made his opinion known.

"So are you. Good match." The Doctor left for the shower, ignoring the dirty look the Master gave him.

Of course there were hidden cameras in the room. By the time the Doctor came back the Master had found and disabled them. The Doctor added one more to his collection, so small it was hardly visible – fifty-first century technology.

A camera in the bathroom. How very Jack.

"We should have gone back to the TARDIS." The Doctor looked at him seriously and slightly pissed. "This situation has a great potential of disaster."

"I was wondering," the Master agreed, "did he ever mention this to you later? He must have recognized you after you regenerated."

The Doctor shook his head.

"He's lost two years of memories. This must be among them."

"Hm. Think we'll have anything to do with it?"

"I hope not." The Doctor shuddered. "It'll ruin his life."

The Master smirked. "How promising."

"He's a time agent," the Doctor said darkly. "And we are time travellers. You can't tell me he bumped into us by accident."

"No, he was probably looking out for us."

"And you had nothing better to do than to get us into his hotel suite!" The Doctor sounded quite pissed now.

"Clever of me, wasn't it?"

"Not at all. So what's your plan? Did you know he was here?"

"No." The Master sighed, wondering what to say. The Doctor sat on the edge of the large bed, dressed in a bath robe, his hair ruffled and damp. He did look a bit exhausted.

He was also half naked and wet.

"The TARDIS has detected time travel in this area and I wanted to see what was going on. That's all." The Doctor didn't believe him, didn't even want to believe him. The Master could see it in his eyes. Something important had been broken a long time ago. He still didn't know if he should regret it.

He decided to change the topic before the Doctor could ask another question. With some luck he would feel like shit tomorrow and the Master could leave him behind to realize his plan. He wouldn't actually need Jack's help for that but it would speed things up.

"Think he knows who we are?"

"I doubt it. Until we met in 1941 he thought Time Lords were a legend." The Doctor rubbed his eyes. "He probably just thinks us an endangerment for the history of Earth. Or time tourists."

Tomorrow would be fun. Jack pretended not to know they were time travellers while they pretended not to know he was a time agent. Also they pretended not to know that he knew they were time travellers. The question was: Did Jack know that they knew he was a time agent?

"He still wants to fuck you."

The Doctor flinched a little at the word. "He's not going to," he said with certainty. "I'm not going to let him and he knows the meaning of the word No. Stop acting like a jealous child!" He sounded irritated.

The Master didn't bother with a verbal answer. Instead he stood before the Doctor, took hold of his shoulders and pushed him down onto the bed. Then he knelt over him, leaned down to kiss him.

This time the Doctor did not part his lips for him willingly. The Master could almost feel his quiet anger. For one moment it even seemed as if he would resist, push him away, but the Master didn't give him the chance for it. He grabbed both thin wrists in one hand and pinned them above the Doctor's head while using his free hand to push open his robe.

He'd been feeling a bit horny ever since they'd had dinner. Seeing the Doctor half naked and wet on the bed had not helped, and he indulgenced in that feeling. This was what Jack would not have, he thought as he spread the other man's thighs without preamble, positioned himself between them and pushed inside without any preparation.

The Doctor let out a small hiss of pain. Tight and cool – a bit like fucking a corpse, the Master thought in a flash of morbid humour as he repeated the motion, pushing in a bit further. It was always a struggle to get all the way in, even if he used lubrication. Eventually something tore and the blood made it a little easier. Beneath him the Doctor squirmed, but the Master held him down. The little noises of protest and pain the Doctor made aroused him even more and tonight he had no reason to hold back. He _wanted _the Doctor to be a wreck in the morning, too miserable to move, and so he fucked him hard, long and repeatedly. All through the night he woke him up him again and again by brutally pounding him into the mattress, for once deliberately cruel. Eventually the Doctor did cry out in pain but the Master didn't mind – the walls where quite thick here. Almost a pity – would have been interesting to see Jack's face if he walked in on them. Maybe another time. The Master grinned in the dark, panting hard, his nails and teeth leaving marks on the Doctor's skin.

By the time the sky began to change from black to dark blue the Doctor was sick with fever again and barely able to move. The Master carried him into the bathroom, took him one last time under the running shower before putting him back to bed and finally letting him sleep.

Taking a small medical scanner out of his jacket he made sure he hadn't gone too far. Then he dropped beside the Doctor and fell asleep within seconds.

He didn't dream.

-

- tbc

September 24, 2007


	5. Chapter 5

The time agent came back just before dawn. He'd spent the night out since with his guests he hadn't wanted to bring anyone else to his suit. The device in the door would have alerted him had one of them left their room, but they'd spent the night inside. In the meantime the cameras all over the room should have collected enough material to maybe get a clue of who they were.

He watched the record before dropping into bed. The cameras had started working the moment they'd opened the room. The record showed him leaving, the two strangers having a short exchange of words in a language he didn't know and, quite interestingly, his computer couldn't translate, then the one who called himself the Doctor went for the bathroom. To the time agent's immense disappointment the bathroom camera went dead shortly after. He saw the man take a tool with a gleaming blue light at its end out of his pocket, wave it around and that was it. Finito.

He stared at the screen in confusion. Had that been a sonic screwdriver? Who had a sonic _screwdriver_?

The other man, Harry, took a different device out of his jacket, wandered through the main room and shortly after all the cameras were gone. So much for that.

At least they were still inside.

He shut down his computer with a sigh, than glanced at himself in the mirror above the desk.

"I really don't look like a Fred," he admitted. Well, Bill then. It was as good as any other four-letter name.

It wasn't like he was going to use it for long.

The agency had sent him because someone was in this time zone who didn't belong here. He'd arrived a few days ago, gotten this giant suite after having booked it almost a year in the past, (His job had its advantages, especially since the time agency paid for everything.) done a few scans for time travel activities and eventually found these two. In the meantime he'd had fun.

Now his job was to find out if they had any ill intentions, or more generally, if they were about to do something to alter history in any way.

Unfortunately 'Bill' wasn't absolutely certain they were the only time travellers around. He'd detected other activities before they'd arrived, and there were signs of powerful alien technology, appearing and disappearing somewhere in this city. Of course that could be them as well, being time travellers and such. In that case they were quite dangerous. And would be rather pissed if they found out he was a time agent out to stop them.

Of course chances were that they already suspected. He'd have a hard time explaining the cameras – they weren't exactly twenty-third century technology after all.

He'd just make something up if he had to. Say he'd been filming a porn movie in there or something.

Bill didn't exactly know what to make of them. They seemed harmless enough, but appearances could be deceiving. And maybe 'harmless' was not the right word to use. They didn't appear to have any ill intentions, but the moment he'd met them Bill had realised that both of them could probably take over the universe with the seer force of their personalities.

And that was very dangerous indeed.

They were also both quite good-looking and the time agent wouldn't have minded if his flirting had ended in one of their beds, but he was professional enough not to let his libido get in conflict with his work. If he had to, he would take them out, no matter how attractive or likable they were.

But despite all his professionalism he couldn't imagine them being up to anything nasty. At last that went for the Doctor. Bill had never met anyone quite like him, and he'd met many weird or eccentric people in his life. Something about him was so fascinating, so intriguing that he had been unable not to like him. He remembered the little somersault his stomach had made when they'd danced and the Doctor had taken lead with the implicitness of someone not used to following others. It was not unusual for him to be attracted to someone – more unusual not to be, actually – but he couldn't remember the last time his stomach had had any say in it.

He trusted the Doctor. He couldn't help it. He seemed so childlike, free of dark intentions, yet there was something haunted, lost and vulnerable in his eyes that made Bill want to protect him. And that was bad. Not good for business.

He should check if he was being telepathically influenced, made to like them. It could happen. Maybe they really were aliens – he couldn't forget how cold the Doctor's hand had felt in his. Unnatural.

Harry was another matter. He seemed nice, funny and charismatic, yet that couldn't completely cover the hard edge he wanted to hide. He'd acted playfully jealous around his friend last evening but there was something about the way he hovered behind the Doctor that surpassed possessiveness.

If crossed he would not hold back in any way, Bill was sure. In his eyes there had been intelligence, wit and humour but no compassion, nothing but quietly amused distaste for whatever he looked at. It was slightly unsettling, yet at the same time intriguing. He could be dangerous. It was just hard to tell _how_ dangerous.

Bill fell asleep when the first rays of sunlight hit the window. When he woke up it was almost noon and he cursed his sleeping in. After checking if his guests were still with him he showered, dressed and then went over to their room. Today he would take them to where he'd localized the alien technology, see if they had anything to do with it.

He knocked and opened the door to the other part of his suite. Harry greeted him with a smile. He was just slipping on his shoes.

"Hello, Bill!" he said, his voice somewhat subdued. "I was just going to see if you were awake."

"Just woke up, sorry," Bill apologized. "You two had a good night?"

"Splendid. Thanks for letting us stay."

Bill stepped fully into the room and noted that the Doctor was still in bed and apparently deeply asleep. He was terribly pale.

Bill felt and unexpected pang of worry.

"What's wrong with him?" He kept his own voice down so not to wake him. Harry sighed.

"He wasn't feeling so well yesterday and now he has a fever. I thought it better to let him sleep. That is, if you don't mind him occupying your spare bed another few hours."

"No, not at all." Bill shook his head as he walked over to the bed. This was not something he had expected to happen.

The Doctor's forehead was covered in sweat and his breath was laboured. Bill carefully touched his skin to check his temperature, unprepared for his sudden concern.

"He's freezing!"

"No, he's burning up," Harry stated calmly. "As he said, he's an alien."

Bill looked at the pale, trembling figure on the bed.

"He really is, isn't he?" he said quietly.

The Doctor was dressed in one of the pyjamas that could be found in the closet. He didn't stir when Bill took hold of his hand and felt for his pulse. The rush of relief he felt surprised him.

"His pulse seems normal. A bit weak, perhaps."

Harry's face darkened. He walked over to them swiftly and his frown only deepened as checked the pulse himself. For one second the agent thought he saw real concern in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked, alarmed.

Harry straightened his composure, shook his head and smiled.

"Nothing really. I think we should just let him rest. There's something I want to discuss with you anyway."

Bill didn't feel well leaving the ill man alone but Harry was probably right. Besides, if he was really an alien they could hardly take him to a doctor. Not in this century.

Better get back to the plan then.

"Let's go for a walk," he suggested and Harry nodded. He went to take something from the pocket of the coat the Doctor had been wearing last evening and scribbled a note he left on the table before quietly leaving the room after Bill and locking the door.

-

At noon the streets were relatively empty, since the festivities mainly took place at night. Harry and Bill had a quick breakfast in the Hotel's restaurant, then stepped out into the bright sunshine.

"We're time travellers", Harry said suddenly. "And you're a time agent."

Okay, that was unexpected.

'_I was supposed to say something like that later this day,'_ Bill thought while he wondered how Harry could have found out.

"How did you find out?" he asked.

A look of impatience.

"We travel through time. It wasn't hard to guess."

"I mean me being a time agent."

The question was ignored.

"There are other time travellers in this area," Harry continued. "They're dangerous, about to cause great damage to the history of Earth. We've come to stop them."

"And why would you do that?" Bill was getting a bit irritated in his confusion. "Who are you and what gives you the authority to meddle with time?"

Harry snorted.

"We're just being nice. I didn't know you needed a licence to save the world."

"You could cause a lot of damage."

"Oh, believe me, we have experience."

"In saving the world or causing damage?"

"Both."

"And why would you care? You're friend isn't even human!"

Harry shrugged. "He's adopted the planet. Anyway, there was a point to me telling you other than staring a discussion."

"You don't say." Nothing was going as planned. "Is your partner really sick or is that another act?"

"His health has been a bit fragile lately. Another reason why I want to get over with this as fast a possible. Now shut up and listen!"

Bill rolled his eyes. No-one went around the universe saving species just for fun. But then it would explain why Harry's friend was calling himself 'the Doctor', after a well known myth among the Time Agents – someone who travelled though time and space defeating evil for no particular reason.

"Our ship has detected alien technology nearby," Harry interrupted his thoughts. "You can't tell me you don't know about it."

"Actually I thought it was your doing." And the time agent still wasn't convinced it wasn't.

"And no doubt you wanted to arrest us for it. Never mind," Harry raised his hand when Bill opened his mouth to reply. "I need your help finding it. Surely you know where to look?"

Bill found himself nodding.

"Then show me!"

Bill didn't know what to make of all this. He was almost convinced the man was telling the truth but not completely. On the other hand something had to be done here – just this morning his scanners had detected a giant build-up of power, and whatever it was, it would be devastating. And, well, he'd wanted to take Harry to the location of that activity anyway. He was armed. What could go wrong?

"I don't trust you," he grumbled as he led the other time traveller to the building over which his own spacecraft was hidden.

Harry shrugged.

"Like I care."

-

The Doctor woke to silence. He needed a moment to figure out where he was. The world spun before his eyes when he tried to sit up. Breathing hurt. Everything hurt. He felt sick and his head was killing him.

The room was empty and he had to fight down a wave of panic. The Master was out there somewhere. That he couldn't see him and couldn't sense him didn't mean he didn't exist.

He was out there. And up to something. Something he tried to keep secret from the Doctor. Which to his experience equalled something bad.

He had to stop him. It was the Doctor's fault that he was here now, and his responsibility to keep him from harming anyone. The thought echoed in his fevered mind and gave him the strength to move.

He was dressed in the shirt of a pyjama – the Master must have done that to cover the marks he'd left on him last night. The Doctor shivered and tried not to think of it. He distantly remembered a shower, still there was dried blood on his thighs and the bed was a mess beneath the cover.

He practically fell out of bed and made his way over to the table on wobbly legs. A note telling him to stay in bed and wait for their return. He'd gone with Jack then. Probably not good.

The Doctor's coat was hanging over a chair. He searched the pockets with trembling fingers and nearly cried in desperation when he couldn't find his medicine. He needed something to lower the fever and most of all something to make the pain bearable, so he could move. So he could find the Master.

The Master. He'd taken it away, no doubt. To stop him from leaving the room. He'd already done his best to make the Doctor miserable last night and he'd been unable to stop him.

It was suddenly hard to breathe. The Doctor collapsed on the floor and curled into a ball. Waited. After a while he felt a bit better.

It seemed to take ages to get into his clothes. The door was locked and the Master had also taken his sonic screwdriver, but he didn't need it pick such a simple lock, even in this state.

Stumbling down the corridor the Doctor knew there was no use in going after the Master like this. He'd have to get to the TARDIS first, get some painkillers and then see if she was up to a scan for unusual activities.

He more or less fell into the elevator, tied not throw up as it moved down. Cursing the Master over and over again.

Taking a few deep breaths he walked through the lobby and out into the street. The TARDIS wasn't far. He did his best not to look too miserable but the people taking notice of his state would probably think he had a hangover anyway.

It was far too hot outside. He felt as if his flesh was on fire and he had to rest every few meters.

Somehow he made it to the ship. His fingers were trembling so hard he had trouble getting the key into the lock. His body could cope with but one heart but it wasn't actually meant to.

Inside it was much cooler. He fell to his knees and rested his forehead on the floor of the console room as everything went black for a moment.

He had to hurry. Who could tell what the Master was doing in the meantime? No time to waste like this.

With effort he got back to his feet, fell down once more, tried again. He hated it. Hated it.

He'd died many times before but it had never taken so long.

-

- tbc

September 27, 2007


	6. Chapter 6

Lazily gazing out of the window the Master made a show of not being impressed. Because he wasn't. Jack's ship was small and not all too fast. Not in the atmosphere at least, and that was where they were. He didn't know how big it was on the outside since it had been invisible when they'd climbed in but it couldn't be any bigger inside. In fact it was probably smaller. A lot.

Jack wasn't talking much. The Master suspected that he'd confused and possible annoyed him a little earlier but he didn't care much. Didn't feel like talking for once.

If he was absolutely honest to himself the Master was nervous. He wanted to get to the location of the alien ship – the other alien ship – as fast as possible. Anything could happen while they were on their way. It could disappear forever, it could be destroyed, someone else could steal it. Nothing of that was very likely but this close to success one tends to become a bit paranoid.

He should have taken the Doctor with him.

It wouldn't have been too hard to get Jack to take him along. It was the first time in more than a year that the Master had left him alone for so long outside the TARDIS. While he was gone the Doctor could get worse. He could die. He could do something stupid, which was more likely.

No, he was out like a light. The Master was sure. Even if he woke he would be too weak to leave his bed, let alone the room.

If anything happened the Master wouldn't know before he got back. He'd never before felt how much he depended on his lost telepathic senses.

Speaking of paranoia…

"What time zone are you from?" Jack suddenly wanted to know.

"None," the Master answered, still looking out of the window. Not long now and the Doctor would be fine. He would leave him with Real-Time-Jack and his incompetent little team or those stupid guys from UNIT who couldn't defeat a single alien menace on their own to fully recover, steal the TARDIS and go back to a world they'd visited weeks ago, where a young ruler was just about to realise that his people should reclaim their rightful place in the universe. A young and inexperienced ruler who needed advisors. Eventually the Master would take over and wait for the Doctor to appear. Back to the roots so to speak.

(…only their roots went so much deeper than that and didn't involve violence and killing but red grass and skipped classes and two little boys who just wanted to know how it feels like…)

"That's impossible," Jack's voice cut into his thoughts. As if he'd know. "Everyone has to be born somewhen."

"Not us."

Short silence. Then: "I just let the ship's sensors run some tests. You're from about two-hundred years in the future, from the planet Cobscar, which will be…" He stopped himself, probably unwilling to tell the Master the inevitable fate of his 'homeworld'. The Master grimaced.

"Will be destroyed. Yes, I know. I was there. Feel awfully sad about it."

The time agent didn't dignify that with answer.

-

It was hard to concentrate, but the pain was bearable now. The Doctor had reached his room, taken the painkillers and waited. He didn't have much time. After a while he'd accepted that the pills didn't seem to work, not enough, too slowly, and had taken some more. While he was sitting on the floor in front of his bed the pain had lessened, a little. Too little. He'd taken another one and finally felt able to get up, and get the spare sonic screwdriver he kept in his drawer since the last time he'd lost one. Now he was standing in front of the console, letting the TARDIS do a scan for anything unusual. He needed a moment to make sense of the readings. Time travel detected nearby. Alien technology, origin unknown, large power build-up. Space-time-ship from the future of Earth moving toward it. That would be Jack and the Master.

Whatever the Master was up to, it was bad. It was always bad. The Doctor didn't give him the benefit of doubt anymore.

He wondered how much longer his old friend would bear with him in this state. Would be better if he left him. Just go away please don't leave me. Didn't make much sense anyway. But it did.

No. No.

Couldn't let his thoughts drift.

The TARDIS landed close to the alien machine – it was a hundred meters long, a station containing several life-forms, the scanners told him.

The Doctor collided with the door before he could tell he was falling. He hardly noted the impact, just pulled himself upright and stepped outside. Everything seemed very far away, like it was someone else's body, not his. But that meant the pain was also someone else's, and this time he was fully okay with that.

As it turned out the TARDIS had not landed close to the station but inside. He was okay with that as well. A bit hard collecting his thoughts and coming up with a plan. He just kept walking, had to meet someone sooner or later.

-

It was sooner rather than later that he found himself surrounded by armed guards and standing in front of the high and mighty commander of this station.

At least he thought it was sooner. His sense of time was a bit messed up at the moment.

As it turned out the creatures – a little fish-like but with legs and lugs which was neat because he didn't feel up to swimming at the moment – had come from the galaxy called Sombrero and a bit in the future. They had landed on Earth to refuel their ship.

The ship merely needed energy from the sun. It was the other energy that bothered the Doctor.

People were strapped into machines all along the walls of the command centre. They were humanoids with green skin and hair, and as far as the Doctor could tell they were slaves. Just like every not-fish-like creature on this ship. Which were quite a lot.

The Fishes controlled them with the power of their mind. They all were wearing heavy helmets that looked silly but enabled them to induct pain through the collars the slaves were wearing.

The Doctor didn't like them.

The people in the machines were controlling the station while being controlled by the Commander. They controlled the engines, the life-support-systems and most of all the weapons.

They greatest weapon was some kind of energy blaster that could not be blocked by any kind of shield. Because the energy they used wasn't conventional in any way.

The machines these slaves were strapped into also enabled them to suck the life-force out of any living creature within several dozen square-miles of the station, store it and, if needed, channel it into a beam of energy. And they had come here for a refill. The preparations were almost done. In less than a day the nearest city would be full of corpses.

The Doctor was feeling a lot more active now. His head still felt fuzzy but he was quite furious. Yet he stayed calm. And asked the commander, very politely, to stop, and leave, and never do it again. And free all the slaves while he was at it.

The Commander laughed. And ordered his execution.

So the Doctor took the sonic screwdriver they hadn't recognized as a weapon and shut down the power of the Commander's helmet, thus shutting down his mind as well.

He fell from his seat. As did every other Fish in the station. The slaves didn't need long to adjust to the situation. Their masters were still alive but by the time they woke up they wouldn't be anyone's masters anymore.

The slaves in the command centre declared him their hero. Except those in the machines, still lacking any sign of being alive.

The Doctor walked over and found the switch that opened the transparent capsules they were trapped in.

"Can you hear me?"

yes

A collective answer in his mind. They'd lost their individuality. '_I'm sorry_', the Doctor thought sadly.

don't be

He didn't like it when someone read his mind without asking. But he didn't feel like giving a lecture.

"You can go home," he said softly, and out loud to make a point.

we will not

"Why not?"

there is nothing for us

This he could understand.

don't be sad

Easy to say. The Doctor wandered around, over to the place where the Commander had been sitting and looked at his screens. The power level for the energy transfer was still rising.

"You can stop that now," he said.

no

He didn't understand. "No-one's forcing you to do it anymore."

it gives us power

"But you're hurting others!"

we have been hurt as well

"Not by them."

it doesn't matter

That didn't make sense. Especially those who'd suffered themselves should know what it meant and not do it to others. Why did they want to harm anyone if they didn't have to?

it doesn't matter

"Oh yes, it does!"

we do not care about others - we need that power - we can do anything - nothing can harm us now - it keeps us strong - we feed on it

"But it kills innocent beings!" the Doctor exclaimed desperately. "Your people have been killed, haven't they? You know that pain! How can you willingly cause it?"

tell us doctor have you never killed innocents?

"That wasn't…" He stopped, feeling sick.

join us

"What?"

you possess great knowledge - a powerful mind - we need you

"I'm not going to let you get on with this." The Doctor changed the setting of his screwdriver when suddenly everyone moving in the room stopped, and turned to look at him.

you will have power

"I don't want it."

you can stop evil

"And cause it."

Sparks began to fly as the Doctor pointed the humming tool at the console in front of him.

There was a subtle change in the tone of the collective voice.

weak flickering little life – almost gone – we can make you strong again – feed you the life of others – do you not want to live?

The Doctor looked at them, corpse-like figures in coffins of plastic, stealing the life of strangers and not caring.

"No for this price," he said.

then we shall not ask

The still figures standing in the room now moved towards him, their eyes empty. The Doctor ducked when they reached for him. The sonic screwdriver went flying. He threw himself on the floor when another set of hands tried to grab him, got hold of his tool and jumped back to his feet, nearly falling down again. His knees were like jelly.

The zombie-like people were blocking the way to the console now, and still coming closer. There was nothing more he could do here. The machine was damaged but probably not irreparably so.

The Doctor was torn between the urge to run and the need to finish the job. There was no way he could do anything useful now though, and if they got hold of him all was lost. So he turned and ran, his heart beating painfully in his chest and it was still just the one. He felt like throwing up, stumbled back the way he'd came, a dozen green-skinned men and woman on his trail. But they weren't acing of their own free will and moved sluggishly, uncoordinated. Otherwise he wouldn't have had the slightest chance to escape.

Deep beneath his feet he heard the humming of starting engines.

Willing his legs to run faster he had to accept once again that will alone was not enough to move a body that didn't have the strength for it. When he reached the TARDIS he fell inside, the doors closing on their own. For a long moment he just lay there, his head pounding, his lungs burning and unable to see. He had to get away, get back to the alley where the TARDIS had been parked before. What would the Master do now? Would he be able to get into the station? Would he be able to use it? Was it even still on Earth?

He lost track of his thoughts as he struggled to remain conscious.

When he got to his knees he threw up. Gall and blood splattering all over the floor.

"Sorry," he rasped between breaths. He was making such a mess of his ship.

Somehow he made it to the console. Half blind he flicked a few switches, hoping it to be the right ones. He hardly noticed when his body hit the ground.

-

"Here we are."

They climbed out of the small spaceship and looked down into the valley where the alien ship was parked. They had seen its outline quite clearly on the screen of Bill's ship. With their own eyes they saw nothing.

"It's camouflaged," said Bill. Harry snorted.

"No shit, Sherlock!"

Quite an expert with classical literature then. And seriously starting to get on Bill's nerves with his attitude.

The Cobscaran picked up a stone and threw it far into the valley. Its flight ended it a flash of lightning and dust.

The next several minutes they spend back in the ship, trying to find out what kind of barrier was blocking their way and if there was any way to get though it, since neither of them wanted to get vaporized.

In the end Harry stated: "You're totally useless!"

"I don't see you doing anything helpful!" the time agent snapped back. He was beginning to get a bit worried. The nature of this barrier didn't feed any hope that the owners of that ship where friendly in any way. Which meant he desperately wanted to get rid of them before they could do whatever they'd come here for. At least Harry didn't seem to be working with them – unless he was just trying to distract Bill while his partner did something evil.

'_Wait a moment!'_ his heart demanded. '_Didn't we decide the Doctor couldn't be evil?'_

'_You decided that,'_ answered his brain. '_Leave me out of this!'_

At least his libido didn't join the discussion. His libido wasn't even pissed at Harry – while pretty much every other part of him was.

For a moment they glared at each other.

Then the ship on the screen blinked out of existence.

-tbc

October 2, 2007


	7. Chapter 7

Wherever the alien ship had gone, it would come back. Bill knew it. He knew it because it had disappeared and reappeared before and because the universe wasn't nice enough to him to let it be gone forever.

He told Harry, in not exactly the same words. Harry wanted to know when it would return. Bill couldn't tell but it would take a while. Days. Harry was fuming.

Then Harry decided they should return to the city. He ordered Bill to take him to their hotel. The journey back was filled with silence and only when they were about to land on the roof where he usually parked, the thought struggled its way into Bill's brain the Harry wasn't actually in a position to give him orders.

He'd wanted to return to the hotel anyway, he consoled himself.

Then they reached his suite and went to look for the Doctor. Harry was cursing loudly while he paced through the empty room, displaying anger and annoyance, but Bill could see naked panic in his eyes. He'd never before seen anyone look so worried.

Without another word Harry ran out of the room, through the hotel and into the street. He seemed to know where to go and the time agent ran after him, not because he was worried for that strange, cold-skinned alien himself but because he wanted to know what was going on and where Harry would lead him. Of course.

He'd not expected the other man to be able to run this fucking fast!

And quite reckless too. More then one pedestrian was shoved roughly out of the way, often landing on their butt.

Finally the man ran into a small, dead-end alley close to the spot where Bill had met them the day before. There was nothing inside but some garbage and a blue wooden box at the other end. It wasn't what Bill had expected and nothing that made any sense. He'd thought Harry was looking for the Doctor – there seemed to be little else on his mind – but here was nothing. Perhaps he was just trying to get away from the time agent and had taken a wrong turn, but he didn't slow down despite having nowhere to run and remembering the fear he'd seen in his eyes Bill doubted Harry was right now even aware the agent existed.

He caught up with him when Harry stopped in front of the blue box and fumbled to get a key into its lock. The small windows were lit, but impossible to see through. 'Police Public Call Box' the sign over the door read. Bill had seen things like that before, somewhere in the history of earth. Something like a phone box if he remembered correctly. Unlikely for the Doctor to be in there.

Maybe Harry wanted to call someone? But how did that thing even get here?

The door opened. Harry disappeared inside and Bill nearly fell over when he looked trough the opening into the large room that lay behind.

Okay.

Reset.

He looked again. The sight hadn't changed. Whatever this box was, it was definitely bigger on the inside.

The large room in front of him was not as well lit as the light falling through the windows had made him believe, but it was bright enough to leave little doubt about its dimensions.

Then the time agent shoved all those thought aside and followed Harry inside. Some part of him still expected to have fallen victim to an optical illusion and bump into a wall after two steps but he didn't.

There was a console like thing in the middle of the room, with switches and levers and cables running all over it. He found Harry kneeling behind it, cradling the Doctor in his arms.

The alien's eyes were half open but Bill saw at once that he wasn't even close to conscious. His entire body was shaking, his hands cramped claw-like in front of his chest, his breath fast and intermittent.

"Oh shit!" Bill exclaimed, crouching beside the two men. "What's wrong?" He reached out to feel the Doctor's pulse, but Harry slapped his hand away.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "I think he overdosed on painkillers." Before Bill could say another word Harry stood with the Doctor in his arms and carried him out of the room in a hurry, as if the man weighed nothing. The time agent could only run after them.

He had his brain on stand-by – the only way from him to deal with the impossible dimension of this place. Harry went from one corridor to another, until finally they reached a room that looked like an infirmary. He placed the Doctor on one of the beds and injected something into his neck. A few seconds later the cramps stopped and the Doctor went limp.

Harry took a deep breath. Then he closed his eyes and for one minute was very still.

-

The Master took a deep gulp of his beer and glared at Jack. Now he had time to think about it he would have preferred it had the time agent not come here. But, well, there was little he could do about it now except shoot him and mess with the timeline. Not the best idea he'd ever had, but, come to think of it, not the worst either.

The stupid human was still looking around wide-eyed. As if he'd never seen a dimensional transcendental ship before.

They were sitting in the large kitchen because the Master had wanted a beer or something stronger, and he'd had no intention of staying with the Doctor like a lovesick puppy. The TARDIS would alert him of any change of his state. He would have liked to get rid of the human, but Jack would not leave the TARDIS, and so the Master had dragged him along. Better bear with him than leave him with the Doctor.

The time agent had been reluctant to leave the Time Lord's side. There had been a look of worry on his face in no way justified for someone who'd only known the Doctor for one day. He really shouldn't act like the Doctor was his to worry about.

"What's wrong with him?" Jack asked for the altogether third time. "You said he was sick before."

"He is," the Master said with an exasperated sigh. "But he'll be better soon."

He'd checked the area where the alien ship had been with the TARDIS scanners and found nothing but an echo of its existence. Now he knew where to look it was easy to find. Before it had been difficult to determine the exact location. Maybe the Doctor would have been able to, but the Master wasn't used to handling the systems of this obsolete piece of junk.

Now that he had found the ship he didn't need Jack anymore. The Master opened his mouth to ask him to leave – again – but when he looked up he noticed that the human was already gone. Probably wandering through the ship to see where it ended. Humans were like that. The Master decided to ignore him for the moment.

Coming back to the empty hotel suite hadn't been the worst moment of his life, but it was rather high on the list. He had known the Doctor would do something stupid! He should have tied him to the bed. How could the Master leave him ever again if he couldn't be sure the Doctor wouldn't get himself killed while he was gone?

His state was more or less stable now. Yet the Master couldn't fight the feeling that it had been dangerously close this time.

Pathetic little idiot! _('I could have lost you!'_)

His stomach seemed to have turned into a small, cold stone and was only very slowly returning to its normal form. Entering the TARDIS to find the Doctor convulsing on the floor hadn't been so great either. Impossible to tell how much additional damage he had caused to his already failing body.

Why couldn't he just have stayed in bed and slept through the day?

Once the alien machine came back – and it better would! – the Master would take the TARDIS to get inside. No way such a primitive force-filed could hold back a time capsule of the Time Lords, even if it was only a Type 40.

Until then there was little he could do but try not to think.

It was an art he had mastered over the past year.

-

Bill wandered through the impossible ship for a wile, trying to find its end. Corridor followed staircase followed corridor. He found a room so large he couldn't see the opposite wall and right beside it another door lead to a little storage room. There was a pool, a gym, a room full of junk from a thousand worlds.

There were quite a lot of bedrooms, all decorated in different styles, all abandoned.

Eventually he ended up standing in the doorway of the infirmary, looking over to where the Doctor was lying on his bed, surrounded by beeping machines. It was a lonely sight.

He shouldn't be alone like this.

The time agent had yet to make sense of the relationship the Doctor and Harry shared. On the one hand Harry was positively obsessed with his friend, on the other hand he didn't seem to care about him at all. Like so much here it felt like Bill was missing something.

The Cobsarian was dangerous in a subtle way. He was cold. He was infuriating. He was getting on Bill's nerves. The human was fascinated by him against his will. He had a strange charisma hard to define and harder to resist.

It was unsettling in a way. The time agent felt torn between the need to find out who he was, the desire to be close to him and the urge to run.

Most of all, though, he felt the need to keep him away from the Doctor.

It was hard to define their relationship but there was something profoundly wrong with it.

It wasn't actually his business.

As a time agent on a mission he might well pretend to become involved, but he mustn't ever be for real. Yet he was. He couldn't help it. He had known the Doctor for all of one evening, but there was something about him that had made a deep impact on the human, made him want to earn his respect, his affection even – it wasn't a feeling he was familiar with and none he could explain.

He wanted to protect him. Somehow he knew that the Doctor needed to be protected.

Still he found himself unable to walk, like he longed to, over to the sleeping alien and take his hand. He felt like they were existing in different worlds. He could never touch him, even if he did.

The Doctor seemed so very far away and Bill longed to get closer.

As feelings went it didn't make much sense as well.

He should alert the agency and ask for someone else to take over the mission. But he'd be damned if he did that!

Eventually he decided to just go over there and sit with the Doctor for a while, for a moment. His feet didn't move, he couldn't leave and he couldn't move forward.

It was freezing cold in here.

-

October 7, 2007


	8. Chapter 8

He rose slowly from dreams full of nothing.

No monsters this time, no lost friends, no war. Just him. Him standing on a field, and the grass was red and the sky was orange and there was no-one there. He knew it was a dream. And with the prophetic knowledge of the dreamer he knew that he could walk for years and years and years and not find any living creature in this world. He still didn't stop, couldn't, because this was a dream and he had no choice but to hope, and go on. The loneliness was oppressing.

He woke up crying and alone.

Rolling on his side he curled into a ball and sobbed quietly until a large, hot hand touched his face and gently wiped away the tears.

"It's alright," someone told him in a soothing voice. "Everything's going to be fine."

He needed a moment to understand it was Jack talking. It didn't feel like Jack. He was touching him and it didn't feel wrong, didn't scare him and that was wonderful but also made him sad.

His own hand that had been clutching the covers reached out until it wrapped around human fingers and he was scared to let got, for if he did Jack would disappear and he'd be alone, all alone, forever.

The Master wasn't there.

The feeling of a human hand stroking his hair stayed with him until he drifted back to sleep.

-

Bill sighed sadly as he looked down on the sleeping figure on the bed. The Doctor looked like a lost child, the last traces of tears drying on pale, hollow cheeks. He wondered what exactly was wrong with him. The readings on the monitors meant nothing to the time agent. Harry had not told him anything except that the Doctor was very sick. He looked it.

Overdosed on painkillers, Harry had said. It left Bill to wonder: Had that been an accident? The Doctor didn't seem very suicidal but then he didn't really know him.

And if it had been an accident, he couldn't imagine in how much pain he must have been.

But if the Doctor had felt that bad, why had he even left his bed in the first place?

The agent let his finger trail down the cheek of the sleeping man, tenderly, just the faintest of touches. He'd called him Jack. He'd blinked at him and took hold of his hand like a drowning man and called him Jack. His voice had been barely audible and a minute later he'd been asleep. Running his hands through the other's hair once more Bill wondered who this Jack was and why he wasn't here and what he meant to the Doctor, and why he was feeling just a little bit jealous right now.

At least he hadn't called him Harry.

-

The next time the Doctor woke up he was all alone. No Jack, no Master, only the familiar humming of the TARDIS surrounding him and for now that was enough. He was just so lucky to have her.

He came awake with a start, bolting upright in his bed. His hearts racing from a dream he couldn't quite remember he listened to the silence. It felt like he was the only being in the entire cosmos, and though the feeling wasn't entirely unfamiliar it still made him nervous, after a while, not knowing where the Master was, or Jack.

Maybe Jack had left by now. The Doctor could tell he'd been asleep for a long time.

Maybe they both had left.

After all his time it wasn't likely. Still, it couldn't hurt to find out (only it could), and he didn't intend to waste any more time in bed anyway. He felt fine, if a bit numb, and he hated the infirmary. Why was he here anyway? He couldn't remember.

His legs felt a little wobbly but they carried him, generous as they were, while he made his way down the corridor in a dressing grown and slippers.

-

The Master let his head fall back and drew in a shuddering breath as Jack's tongue and lips trailed up and down his cock. This felt quite good, he had to admit – the human definitely knew what he was doing, no that there had been any doubt about that. He sucked the Master's cock expertly, and the Master wondered, as he came, if he could make the Doctor do this for him as well.

They were in the Master's room and had been for a while. For days they'd been getting on each others nerves. The alien ship had yet to show up again, Jack refused to go, the Master wanted him gone and wasn't subtle about it, they got pissed off, they argued, they fought like children. The Master didn't know if Jack still suspected him of being evil or if it was for the Doctor that he insisted on staying but he had to admit that the time agent provided a way to kill time while the Doctor was sick and not very exiting to be around. He still didn't like the human and knew the human did no like him, did not trust him, wouldn't mind if he dropped dead. Him ending up in the Master's bed had been merely a matter of time.

Well, the Master knew he was irresistible. The Doctor wasn't the only one who had a certain effect on people. Jack couldn't stand him and yet was still in for a shag. It was only natural.

Humans were so weak. Not that the Master minded, at the moment.

He fell back on the mattress and in a second Jack was over him, already stroking his cock with nimble fingers, grinning down at him. He seemed quite content and self-satisfied, and why wouldn't he be? After days of sexual withdrawal he was in bed with a quite remarkable man who might be a bastard but certainly wasn't like anyone Jack had ever shagged before. (And as far as the Master knew him that included pretty much everyone.) As a result he was a bit insatiable but that the Master didn't mind either. He had the stamina to keep up with him.

From time to time, though, the time agent would look though him for a second, as if his mind was elsewhere. The Master knew what he was seeing and didn't like it.

He grabbed the human's fingers and stopped their movement with a vague feeling of regret.

"I want the people I sleep with to think of me and me alone while we're at it," he growled darkly.

Jack looked at him, contemplating.

"So do I," he pointed out. "I'm not the one who's bringing someone else into bed with us."

Oh, what did he know, that foolish insect? The Master pushed him away and on his back and than leaned over so he was pressing him down with his body.

"You cannot deny that you'd rather be here with him."

Jack frowned, but did not try to push him off.

"I'm here with you."

"You've been wanting to get into his pants the moment you saw him." Now that he was saying it aloud the Master realised how furious that thought made him. Not only did this human creature think of claiming a Time Lord, the Doctor, _his_ Doctor, for himself, no, he dared thinking of him while sleeping with the Master.

Yet, he remained calm.

Jack gave an exasperated sigh, as if he didn't see the problem.

"Is this all you can think of? I am here, in your bed, having sex with you, and that's it. You are the one who keeps thinking of him."

The Master snorted.

"Well, I'm the one who is actually in a position to compare." He smirked when he saw a new expression on the agent's face. "You don't like the thought of me fucking him, do you?"

"Actually no, I don't," Jack answered without hesitation. "Makes me want to strangle you a bit." He was smiling as he said it but despite the humour in his eyes the Master knew he was speaking only the truth. Oh well, there might be some fun in for him after all. He smiled back.

"Don't you think you're a little too possessive of someone you've only just met?" he asked while his hands wandered between the humans thighs.

Jack shrugged.

"Can't help it," he said lightly. "The thought of you taking him gives me the creeps. I'd keep him away from you if I had any say in it."

"And you're telling me this with your legs wide open?"

"Well, I'm not discriminating."

"I noticed. Sure you aren't just jealous?"

Jack raised his eyebrows at him even as the Master positioned himself between his legs and reached for the tube of lube that had been lost somewhere between the folds of the cover.

"Why would I be?"

"Because you want to fuck him but know you never will, since he won't let you." The Master leaned closer, one hand guiding his cock as he slipped inside, the other stroking Jack's shaft in a slow motion that made the human's eyes flutter shut for a moment. "I can tell you without any doubt that he won't. And _I_ _have _fucked him, and I will do it again, and he wouldn't stop me even if he could." He pushed in right to the hilt while his thumb lightly trailed over the tip of the other's penis.

"You see," he continued, "he is not human, and though he looks like one there are some very distinctive differences. For once his low body temperature. It's like a shock when you shove your hot dick into his cool, skinny little ass." While he talked the Master wrapped his fingers around Jack's erected member. "Besides, he's really, really tight. You'd have problems even getting halfway inside, but the noises he makes while you're at it are a real turn on, believe me." He chuckled at the expression the other's face: a hint of disgust at the game the Master was playing, easily drowned out by his growing arousal. The Time Lord knew it wasn't only the hand around his shaft and the cock in his ass that turned Jack on but also the images he planted into his head. "Oh, he doesn't like it," he went on. "Not at all. Like I said: he's an alien. We, we have no choice, but he only enjoys it when he wants to, and he doesn't. Still, he lets it happen. And weak as he is now even you could overpower him easily. He might struggle a little but you can pin both his wrists above his head with one hand and still have one hand free to lift his hips. You have to pull out a bit and then ram into him with force to get all the way in but it's easier once he's bleeding a little." Jack's breath caught in his throat as the Master tightened his grip around his cock. "You're really hurting him now: you can tell from the way he breathes, the way he throws back his head and closes his eyes. Maybe he even whimpers a little when you start fucking him, harder and harder." He began moving his hand up and down with increasing speed while rocking in and out of the other's body. Jack was panting hard, his face flushed, and he wasn't looking at him. The Master was enjoying himself quite a bit. "If you're really, really, lucky," he said, "he might even cry and beg you stop, but I wouldn't count on –"

The door opened, allowing light from the corridor to fall into the dimly lit room and on the faces of the two men on the bed who were both turning to look at the intruder.

With the light behind him it was impossible to make out the Doctor's face, but the Master could guess his expression from the way he gasped an embarrassed "Sorry!" and closed the door in a hurry before having fully opened it.

"Oh, crap!" Jack groaned, still hard and panting but definitely out of the little world the Master had put him in. What a way to kill the mood!

Given not what they had just done but what the Master had made Jack _want_ to do the human had every reason to feel ashamed, as he clearly did. The Master looked down on the man lying on the bed with his hands covering his eyes and wanted to laugh.

"Well," he said instead. "That'll teach him to knock before entering a room."

- tbc

October 21, 2007


	9. Chapter 9

Outside the TARDIS the sun was beginning to set but since he'd only just gotten up the Master proclaimed it the perfect time for a lengthy breakfast.

Jack had left his room shortly after the Doctor interrupted them and the Master had taken the opportunity to get a few hours of sleep. Now he was sitting in the kitchen, in front of a large collection of food, including bacon, eggs and half-burned toast. He took his time, quietly enjoying himself. Of Jack there was no trace but after a while the Doctor showed up and sat down on the other chair to read the latest newspaper – wherever he might have gotten that. He got himself a glass of juice but didn't touch the food.

The Master waited.

And waited.

And waited.

"Well?" he finally said when the Doctor kept ignoring him.

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to complain and give me a lecture?"

The Doctor didn't bother looking up.

"You and Jack are both grown up and know what you are doing. I didn't see much but judging from what I saw I wouldn't say you forced yourself on him. So I don't know what I should be complaining about."

"Oh, come on!" the Master groaned. "It doesn't bother you at all?"

Now the Doctor looked at him, eyes wide and innocent.

"Why should it bother me?" He actually seemed to mean it.

"Jack's your friend and I'm evil?" the Master tried, but the Doctor merely shrugged.

"I don't think he trusts you," he said. "For Jack sex is a hobby, a fun way of spending the time and he seemed to be enjoying himself earlier. It didn't mean anything to him, nor to you, so there will be no broken hearts. There's nothing wrong with what you did."

"Says the man who didn't have sex for several centuries."

"That I don't usually have sex doesn't mean I'm against other people doing it," the Doctor pointed out and turned his attention back to his paper.

The Master's expression darkened.

"You're having sex with me."

"And now you've had sex with Jack, which certainly was what both of you wanted. Where's the problem?"

The Master rolled his eyes in frustration.

"Aren't you the least bit jealous?"

"I didn't want to sleep with Jack, no," the Doctor answered dryly.

The Master growled at his toast. Then ate it.

"And I always thought you were one of those who see sex as an act of love," he said between two bites.

"I do," the Doctor admitted. "That's why I never do it."

"Still you have no problem with me fucking someone else. You're not making sense."

"Do excuse me!" The Doctor finally lowered the paper to raise his eyebrows at the Master. "Are you actually accusing me of not caring that you cheated on me?"

"Do you care?" the Master asked back.

The Doctor kept looking at him, his gaze calm and collected and full of darkness.

Eventually he said:

"You didn't cheat on me. What you do with me has nothing to do with affection." He drank the last of his juice and got up to leave the kitchen. The Master swallowed the last of his toast without haste, got up himself and caught up with the other man just as he opened the door. His hand wrapped around a fragile wrist with an iron grip and without much effort he dragged the Doctor back into the room, then hauled him up by the shoulder and threw in onto the table, sending food and dishes elsewhere.

He was on the Doctor in a second.

"If I took you now," he said calmly, leaning onto him, "right here, on this table, what would that mean to you?"

"You took me before," the Doctor answered, equally calm. "It wouldn't mean anything. It never did."

The Master punched him and thought he shouldn't but there was nothing else he could do. And why he felt this cold, burning rage he didn't know.

The Doctor fell from the table, landing hard on the floor. The Master kicked him, then knelt down to drag him into an upright position and press him against the wall.

"What does this mean now, tell me!" he hissed.

The Doctor stared at him and didn't look shocked.

"It means nothing has changed." But it had, ages and ages and ages ago and there was no going back anymore. "And nothing ever will."

The Master stared at him another moment and then, unexpected even to himself, drew him into a tight hug. The Doctor stayed completely still, for a long time, but the Master buried his hands in the other's hair and held him close until finally he relaxed. One moment later the Doctor's breath became wheezing and he started to cough into the Master's shoulder. The other Time Lord kept still and didn't let go, not ready to see the blood on his shirt.

He shouldn't have kicked him.

"What does this mean?" the Master asked after an eternity had passed by because he honestly didn't know. He let go of the Doctor so he could look into his face and the Doctor looked back and shock his head and didn't say anything. He'd have looked fine if it wasn't for the blood on his lips and the feverish gleam in him eyes. The Master laid a hand against his cheek, softly, like handling a china doll and only when he noticed the confused and weary look in the Doctor's dark eyes did he realise that he hadn't touched him like this for almost longer than he could remember.

They were still sitting on the floor beside the table, between shattered dishes and spilled food, one with his back against the wall, the other almost on top of him, and then the Master leaned in and kissed the Doctor like he hadn't done in ages, soft and tender, his tongue trailing over the other's lips before gently pushing in to explore his mouth, greeted by the metallic taste of blood. The Doctor let it happen, welcomed him – and for one moment time stopped moving and the Master felt like a Time Lord again, whit the worlds at his feet blooming and falling apart.

Then the Master leaned back and the moment was broken. The Doctor didn't do him the favour of looking lost very long. When he tried to get to his feet the Master held him down.

"Why did you take all those painkillers?" he asked the question that had bothered him for days.

There was still that wariness in the Doctor's eyes.

"Because it hurt," he said simply.

"You could have died." Accusation.

"I didn't think of that." Was that a lie? The Master looked into eyes that told him nothing.

He got to his feet now, staring down at the Doctor. When the other man tried to get up he pushed him back.

"You should have stayed in bed. Why did you come here?"

"Since when do I have to justify me actions to you?"

"Since I'm trying to save your life, idiot!"

"You thought stealing my medicine was going to save my life?" the Doctor spat. "What were _you_ up to, if you don't mind me asking?"

"That's none of you business!"

"Somehow I think it is."

"Then think again." The Doctor opened his mouth but the Master stopped him. This was going nowhere. "Since you're down there already," he said quickly, "you can do something for me." He pulled down the zip of his trousers to free his half erected cock. The Doctor watched him with a delicious and painful mixture of uncertainty, anger and disappointment.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to take you here," the Master continued. "I merely want you to suck me off." When he saw the look on the Doctor's face he laughed. "Just to see if you're as good as dear Jack."

"I'm not entering a competition with Jack!" the Doctor declared forcefully. He tried to get up again and again the Master pushed him down.

"I don't want to force you," he said in a voice soft and gentle. "I want you to do it because I'm asking you to." _But I will force you, if I have to._ He didn't say it but the Doctor understood. The Master could see his inner battle in the way he didn't move at all and his decision in the fear in his eyes. He didn't stop him when he rearranged his long legs so he was kneeling before him. He grabbed the Master's hips for support and his hands were shaking.

"I don't now how to do this," he mumbled.

"You'll learn," the Master smiled.

He nearly moaned when the Doctor's lips, and then his tongue, touched the tip of his cock. The other Time Lord worked slowly, inexperienced and uncertain. In no way comparable with the expert job of the time agent, but the simple fact that this was the Doctor made it so much better. The Master groaned and closed his eyes as the other's tongue moved along his shaft before cool lips closed around it. Teeth accidentally grazed the tender flesh as the Master began to trust slowly, with as much control as he could muster, while the Doctor was kneeling, shaking, at his feet.

-

He gazed through the half open door, not daring to move, hardly able to breath. Behind the door he saw the Doctor kneeling on the floor with his mouth on Harry's dick and it was so _wrong_ but something stopped him from interfering. In his pants he was painfully hard, and the Doctor looked utterly miserable but the man behind the door could only see how his lips moved up and down that bastard's cock and wish it was his instead. He nearly came himself when he watched Harry come inside the other man's mouth and made him swallow it all. The part of him that wanted to go in there and shoot him was ignored and then forgotten.

He fled before one of them could notice him.

-

The sun was already touching the horizon outside when Bill entered the living room where he found the Doctor sitting on the edge of the couch, staring unseeingly into the distance. He had slept a few hours, and shortly before coming here he'd spent a few minutes in the room he'd occupied for himself jerking off desperately. (Although why he'd needed to was beyond him – the sex he'd had earlier hadn't been anything but satisfying.)

Sitting on the large couch the Doctor seemed young and somewhat lost. The sight reminded Bill of something but he couldn't quite grasp what. Well, it couldn't be very important then. He let go of the thought in a second.

The fact that a few hours earlier the Doctor had run into him and Harry having sex he remembered quite clearly. He felt an uncharacteristic urge to apologize for that but didn't.

"You alright?" he asked when the alien didn't seem to notice him even though he was standing right beside him. The Doctor looked up and gave him a half-smile. He was pale and looked strangely vulnerable (and that was hardly surprising, but Bill forgot that thought before it even registered) with dark shadows beneath his eyes. "You look like hell!" Bill exclaimed, feeling new concern rising.

"What are you doing here?" the Doctor wanted to know and it took Bill a moment to realise that he wanted to know why he was in the ship, not just in this room.

"I was worried," he admitted and told himself that this was all part of the mission. Win the trust of the suspects. "Wanted to make sure you'd be alright."

The Doctor's smile was faint and honest.

"Thank you. I'm fine now."

Only then did Bill notice the bruise on his cheek. He nearly bolted, then decided not to say anything (while a part of him kept repeating his Master's words over and over in his head, describing how this man would look if he fucked him.)

The Doctor rubbed his left leg with a vaguely pained expression, as Bill asked:

"Where's Harry?"

The other smirked. "Elsewhere." He kept massaging his leg and Bill found himself fascinated by the movement of his long, narrow fingers.

"Something wrong with your leg?" he asked and sat down on the couch, so close to the Doctor that they were almost touching.

"It just hurts a little. Has been broken a while back and never really healed." Bill only nodded – something about the Doctor had always struck him as fragile. And his tone told him that he didn't really want to talk about it.

So he asked:

"Who's Jack?"

The look the Doctor gave him was startled and almost guilty.

"Where did you hear that name? Did the… Harry mention it?"

"No, you." Seeing the Doctor's confused expression he laughed. "You called me Jack when you were almost asleep."

"Oh." The Doctor's face was unreadable now. "Sorry about that."

"So who is he?"

"A friend."

"Just a friend?" Bill was strangely relived, as if it would matter.

"Yes. I'm sorry."

Now it was Bill's turn to look slightly confused.

"For what?"

"Just in general. For calling you by the wrong name. For stealing your time. Certainly you had better things to…" The Doctor suddenly stopped and closed his eyes, all colour draining from his face.

"What's wrong?" Bill asked, alarmed. The Doctor needed a moment before he could answer.

"Nothing," he said, his voice a little rough. "I'm just tired."

"Then you should sleep."

"I will." There was a smile in his eyes, soft and sad. "Soon enough. But not yet." He got up and made his way to the door.

"Where are you going?" Bill asked, feeling the urge to go after him and remaining where he was.

"There's something important I have to do."

The Doctor didn't turn around when he spoke and one second later Bill was alone, left with the uncomfortable feeling that there was something important he couldn't remember.

-tbc

October 23, 2007


	10. Chapter 10

The Doctor finished working on the TARDIS for maybe the last time. He reattached the covering to the console and stayed where he was sitting beneath it, feeling the faint vibration of the floor. Listening to the song she sang behind the lines of his own thoughts, soothing and gentle and still for him, but not for much longer. He swallowed, his hands shaking just a little, and closed his eyes. He didn't want to this.

He had to.

The last several hours he'd spent sitting here, beneath the console, sabotaging his own ship. It had to be done. He couldn't allow her to be abused for the Master's schemes when he was gone, but he also couldn't simply let her die. They'd been through so much together. She deserved better than that.

She would work as well as she ever had, as long as she wasn't used as a weapon of any kind or send to places she wasn't supposed to go. In that case she would just shut down or jump into the vortex without specific destination, sending her pilot elsewhere. Eventually the Master might be able to get around the security programs the Doctor had written but it would take a long time. Maybe long enough for the universe to find someone new to contradict him.

Now the Doctor's work was done there was no reason to delay the final step any further. Except that he was scared. So very, very scared.

But he knew he had to do it. So he closed his eyes, embraced his telepathic link to the TARDIS one last time, and send the signal that would transfer her ownership to the Master.

Nothing happened. The link stayed intact, the ship's echo a reassuring presence in the back of the Doctor's mind.

His fear of being alone, without her, of losing the only thing that felt like home, had probably interfered with the order he'd send her. And she didn't like the Master, not after what he'd done to her. But she was old, so much older than either of them, and had had many masters. The Doctor was just one in a long line and eventually she would accept the Master like she'd accepted everyone else. He would be the last since there would be no other Time Lord to hand her over to, but she deserved all the time she could get.

The Doctor did his best to calm down, to convince himself of the necessity of his action, and send the order again, with a new determination that allowed no refusal.

Nothing happened. The link stayed, constant and familiar. The Doctor touched the underside of the console with a trembling hand, caught between despair and hope.

"You'll die with me," he whispered.

In his mind he felt her silent agreement. She would not leave him.

The last TARDIS, the last part of Gallifrey, had just sealed her own fate. The Doctor knew, logically, he should be angry, or sad. But all he felt was gratitude.

And relief.

-

It wasn't the worst coffee the Master had ever had but it was close. He grimaced into the paper-cup, took another careful sip, then he gave up and emptied the contents on the already dirty pavement.

He'd regret having wasted money on that had he actually paid for it. But he had used the sonic screwdriver he'd stolen from the Doctor on the machine, and now he considered going back and ruining it completely. He had nothing better to do, so he did just that. His work took only half a minute and left no traces on the outside but the next person to use that machine would get a very nasty surprise.

He secretly hoped it would be Jack.

The human still refused to leave the TARDIS. The Master didn't mind so much now, not when things were promising to get a bit more fun so soon. And the Doctor might even learn something from it. Something very important. Possibly vital.

The sun was just beginning to rise. It was still dark and the streets were deserted save for him. The New-Years-Party was over for a few days already and it was quiet again at this time of the night. And surprisingly cool. The Master dug his hands deeper into his pockets.

He'd left the TARDIS hours ago, needing fresh air. A part of him still didn't want to leave the Doctor behind even for such a short time (after all he had no reason to trust he wouldn't do anything stupid) but he tried to leave that part behind as well. For a while. Jack would be there if the Doctor needed anyone, not that the Master believed he would. (Still his thoughts kept wandering back to the bloodstain the Doctor had left on his shirt earlier.)

He'd had a quite wonderful morning (at sunset) and had wanted a walk outside to complete it. So he'd wandered though the deserted streets pretty much all night, enjoying the clear air and the stars, until be was overcome with a carving. For coffee. The crap the machine had given him, as well as his acing feet, convinced him that it was time to go back now. He growled to himself when he realised that going back would take almost another hour from where he was.

Almost another hour later he unlocked the door of the blue phone box and had to fight a wave of panic when he was greeted with the sight of the Doctor lying motionless beneath the console.

Where was that useless human when he was needed?

When he got closer, though, the Master realised that the other Time Lord was merely sleeping. Curled up and pressed close to the control-island in the centre of the room he looked relaxed and almost happy. The Master stared down at him and didn't know what to do.

There was a sonic screwdriver lying beside the Doctor's limp hand. The Master hadn't even known he had another one. He considered stealing it as well but didn't see any point to it.

As quietly as possible he walked over to the console to have a look at the scanners, but the Doctor looked like he wouldn't even stir if the Master jumped up and down and sang from the top of his lungs. Still, couldn't hurt to be a little considerate for once. (Something did hurt, though, just a little, and the Master didn't really understand.)

The scanners told him the same they'd told him every time he'd looked at them the past days. The alien ship remained absent, and it was starting to worry him a bit. Not much. Just a bit. What if they didn't come back?

Well, other things to think about now. Like his carving for coffee. The Master turned on his heels and waked toward the kitchen, then stopped, hesitated, and eventually walked back to where the Doctor was lying. After taking off his shirt he carefully he lifted his old friend's head and shoved the shirt beneath as a pillow. Then he left and finally got his coffee.

If possible the TARDIS coffee tasted even better than usually. But that could have been just the contrast to the poisonous stuff he'd drunk before.

-

Someone was shaking him, persistently, until he unwillingly opened his eyes.

The Master was crouching before him and it took the Doctor a moment to become aware of his surroundings. He was lying beneath the console, clutching a shirt that didn't belong to him. Must have fallen asleep here after finishing his work. His useless work. He ran his hand over the surface he was leaning against and smiled fondly at his ship.

"Could you please stop petting that thing?" the Master growled. The Doctor didn't react, at the moment perfectly content with ignoring him. His head hurt, as well as every bone, which wasn't surprising, for as much as he loved his ship, her floor wasn't exactly comfortable. Exhaustion pulled at is limbs. Still, he felt better than he had in a long time.

Eventually he handed the shirt back to the shirtless Master, who didn't bother putting it back on, even though the air here was too cool to be comfortable for him. Instead he offered the Doctor a hand and he took it and let himself be pulled to his feet.

Okay. Going straight to bed sounded like a brilliant idea. Yet he hesitated, not wanting to waste another few hours sleeping. He had so few left.

The thought still failed to bother him very much.

"What have you done to her this time?" the Master wanted to know, gesturing to the screwdriver still lying on the floor. The Doctor hurried to pick it up, almost losing his balance, as he bent down. Oh, this was so annoying!.

"Nothing much, just thought I could fix the latest flaw in her navigational systems," he lied. "Out of boredom."

"Ah." The Master sighed. "I never understood why you didn't ever got a new one. While you were president you could have gotten the latest model available at the time. You know, one that actually works." He smirked. "Of course that's not an option anymore."

The Doctor did his best to push his feelings back, too tired for the Master's games. "It was never an option," he said, his voice even.

In all the time they'd spend together on the TARDIS they had never spoken about Gallifrey. Not once.

He turned to leave before this could go any further, but the Master held him back, his hand encircling the Doctor's wrist easily.

"You never told me how it felt", he whispered, pulling the Doctor closer until their faces were almost touching. "How does it feel now, being all alone inside your head?"

"You should know." The Doctor took a step back, trying to keep his emotions out of his voice. "You're all alone in yours."

"I fear you'll find I'm not as alone I should be," the Master said with mocking regret, refusing to let go of the Doctor's arm. The Doctor fought him, taking another step back and colliding with another person that had stepped behind him without being noticed. Strong hands grabbed his shoulders, keeping him still.

The Doctor turned around as much as possible, then faced the Master once again, disbelieve and fury filling the gaping wound torn by the other's words.

"What have you done to him?" he snapped.

The Master stepped closer, pressing against him so the Doctor was trapped between him and Jack who held him tight enough to bruise.

"I discovered that even in this body I am still very capable of hypnosis," the Master whispered into the Doctor's ear. "It was easy entering his mind during sex – after all, his mind is so wonderfully open. He didn't even notice."

The Doctor tried to wriggle free, but it was no use.

"Jack," he called, for once not caring that that was the wrong name. "Don't you see he's controlling you?"

"Oh, I believe he doesn't really register your words," the Master said with fake regret. "And you can't pull him out of this. You see, the trick with really successful mind-control is making someone do something they actually _want_ to do." He leaned even closer. "Very. Badly."

The Doctor stared at him, realisation kicking in.

"You won't," he whispered, his voice trembling.

Why did the Master always have to use people he cared about to hurt him?

"I will." The other Time Lords smiled cheerfully. "Why don't you just play along? Dear Jack only gets what he wants anyway, so no-one gets hurt in the end. If nothing else, see it as an apology for blowing up my homeworld."

He had to take a few steps back when the Doctor started struggling violently in the time agents grip, his long legs kicking dangerously close to the Master's crotch.

"You are the last Time Lord I'd owe an apology!" he hissed, not caring for the tears in his eyes. He'd been a fool to believe the Master would stay quiet and harmless until he was gone. Now Jack had to pay for his stupidity, like so often before.

"Oh yes you do!" the Master hissed back, stepping closer again, for the Doctor had fallen still. "You blew up Gallifrey when I wanted to do it! I actually put some work and effort into that and you had to ruin my all plans only to do it yourself. Hypocrite!" He grabbed the Doctor's face and shoved his tongue into his mouth before he could say anything in return and the Doctor felt Jack's mouth at his neck, one hand leaving his arm to wander down his body. Oh, this wasn't happening! It couldn't be.

"You never apologized for that!" the Master pointed out after breaking the kiss. "I think you deserve some punishment. Don't you think he should be punished, Bill?"

"Oh yes, Master!" Jack answered, his voice a mixture of determination, desire and obedience that sent shivers down the Doctor's spine, made him feel sick. How could it ever come to this?

At a wink of the Master Jack hoisted the Doctor over his shoulder and carried him out of the console room and through the corridors. All the time the Doctor was fighting him, trying desperately to get him to listen, until the human finally put him back on his feet and punched him in the stomach. Without another sound the Doctor crumbled to the ground.

Jack was about to kick him when the Master's voice held him back.

"That is quite enough, thank you."

Jack merely shrugged and hoisted the Doctor back up. The Time Lord stayed still this time, gasping for air. He couldn't believe this was also part of what Jack 'badly wanted to do'.

Finally they entered a room and the Doctor was thrown off Jack's shoulder, landing hard on a bed. His own bed, he noticed.

Without hesitation the human was over him. He roughly removed the Doctor's clothes, holding him down effortlessly when he tried to push him off. The Doctor eventually turned his attention to the Master who was watching passively.

"Please!" he said hoarsely, while Jack tore off his trousers. "Don't make him do this!"

To his surprise the Master took his hand, and stroked his palm with gentle fingers, and then used the Doctor's own discarded belt to tie his wrist to the head of the bed.

"You can't be so cruel to deny the man his fun," he said, shaking his head in disbelieve. And while the Doctor fought against the human, kicking at him only to have his legs captured and pushed apart, the Master calmly trapped his other wrist using Jack's belt, leaving the Doctor feeling completely defenceless and even more scared than before.

"Stop it!" he cried desperately and cried out in pain when Jack entered him one second later. The human stared fucking him with determination and a grin on his face that wasn't anything but happy, and the Doctor closed his eyes, unable to watch.

Each of the human's thrusts send a shock through his body that made it almost impossible for him to breathe. It hurt, Rassilon, it _hurt_! How could anything Jack did hurt so much?

He wasn't aware of anything else until he felt the Master's tender, treacherous fingers on his face again, whipping away his tears.

"What's wrong?" The soft, amused whisper was barely audible over Jack's grunts and the creaking of the bed. "I thought you'd enjoy being for once taken by someone who actually loves you."

The words hurt even worse than everything else.

-tbc

October 30, 2007


	11. Chapter 11

As a time traveller his sleep-rhythm hardly ever went along with the day-and-night circle of the places he found himself in. The Master was used to it and when he noticed that the sun was once again setting by the time he got up he simply accepted the fact and had breakfast.

Jack was still asleep, in his own room. He would not remember the events of last night – well, day, really – at least not consciously and not as long as the Maser didn't want him to. The Doctor was also asleep – or rather unconscious – in his bed where the Master had left him. He hadn't moved by the time the other Time Lord returned there and slipped under the covers with him. If he was honest he was still a little exhausted himself. Well, fucking the Doctor's mouth while Jack took him from behind had been totally worth it, but as his gaze felt on the marks Jack had left on the Doctor's skin he growled. It had been a nice joke on the human's expense but the Master wasn't really that much into sharing.

Maybe he'd gone too far this time, just a little. The Doctor was weak enough already – he had to be more careful. The Master had seen no need to be considerate of his bad state since once the alien spaceship reappeared everything would be fine and the Doctor would be back to health and blessed with at least three more regenerations, but the ship was taking its time. Jack had been confident it would come back but so far there was no sign of it. Maybe it was gone for good, in which case the Master had to be more gentle with the Doctor until he found another way.

But if all else failed he did have a way to keep the Doctor save until he figured something out. He just rather wouldn't use it.

Curling around the Doctor from behind the way he'd never do it if the Doctor was awake he nuzzled his nose in the other's hair and closed his eyes.

An hour later he woke again, slowly and thoroughly rested. The Doctor remained still on the bed, his breath shallow and uneven. Better let him sleep for the day.

The Master rolled onto his back and sat up, ready to leave the bed, but something held him back.

The Doctor was still facing the other way, still hadn't opened his eyes, but his long fingers were wrapped around the Master's wrist and though his grip wasn't strong it was impossible to shake him off. The Master couldn't help noticing the marks left by the belt and didn't try very hard.

"What is it?" he asked, a well calculated hint of impatience in his voice.

Now the Doctor sat up himself, looking at the Master through bloodshot eyes full of rage.

"How dare you?" he hissed, his voice rough. "Doing that to him!"

"Oh, come on, it's not like he didn't _want_ to!" the Master groaned, rolling his eyes. "Besides, he won't remember, so don't act all morally supreme on me!"

"I _am_ morally supreme!" the Doctor spat. "How could you do that? You have always been twisted, but that's taking it one step further than I thought you'd ever go." His grip around the Master's wrist tightened and desperation mingled with the rage in his eyes. "How can I ever leave you alone if you go and do things like this?"

"There is a simple answer to that question," the Master said, keeping his voice even. "Don't leave me."

"It's not like I have a choice!"

"Oh yes, you do!" Now the Master himself was getting aggravated, pulling the Doctor closer with hard, unforgiving hands. "You have always been a fighter! You've survived everything! I have survived the end of my regeneration cycle and so could you if you only tried!"

"So that's what this is about?" the Doctor asked through clenched teeth, disbelieve in his voice. "You think I'm just dying to annoy you? Like you, you mean?"

"Well, aren't you?" The Master was aware of sounding like a spoiled child but they had postponed this conversation far too long. "You could survive if you had the will."

"Sometimes will isn't enough!" the Doctor shouted back.

Now it was the Master who tightened his grip.

"There are ways to save you and if you'd wanted to you would have found them. But as things are I have found them for you."

"Why?"

It was a simple enough question and the Master hoped the Doctor didn't notice the second that passed before his answer.

"Because I'm bored, because you keep me occupied and because I want to win." It was true but he cold have said more (except he couldn't). "I won't let you die just to get back at me!"

And the Doctor sneered, actually _sneered_ at him.

"What makes you think I'd want to die because of you?" he asked. "You aren't that important to me." And the Master punched him.

The Doctor's head was thrown back and he fell onto the bed where he stayed, looking unblinkingly at the ceiling.

"If you stay out of boredom I would recommend you to leave now," he said in a toneless voice. "Just get out. I'm not much entertainment at the moment, so leave me alone and find someone else to play with."

'_You don't think I will?'_ the Master almost said. He didn't. For some reason he didn't. The Doctor sat up again and tried to get to his feet only to discover that his legs wouldn't carry him. He tried again, already panting hard with exhaustion.

"Stay in bed," the Master said. "Sleep a few hours."

"That's what I'm planning to do, thank you very much for your concern," the other man spat. "But I don't plan on lying on these soiled sheets any longer."

The Master looked at the bed, properly this time. They had, indeed, made quite a mess of it.

"The TARDIS will provide you with clean sheets," he shrugged.

"Not while I'm lying on them!" the Doctor pointed out. He finally got to his feet and would have collapsed one second later had the Master not caught him.

"Don't touch me!"

"What's going on?"

The Master looked up, annoyed, at Jack who had just appeared in the door, looking slightly confused and pretty pissed. He yanked the Master away from the Doctor, who in return fell back onto the bed once more.

"What have you done to him?"

"Oh, you should…" the Master stopped himself, straightened his clothes and started again. "It's hardly your business what we do in bed," he said with a growl.

While he helped the Doctor to sit up Jack stared at the bloodstains on the cover, at the Doctor's pale, drawn face, his bruised body and then at the Master. Before he could say anything, however, the Doctor gave his opinion.

"He's right, Bill," he said, all reason and maturity. "I appreciate your concern but this has nothing to do with you."

"Except for the part where you pounded the Doctor into the mattress until he passed out, of course," the Master added. The Doctor shot him a shocked and murderous look, but Jack didn't react in the least. He had heard the words, but as long as the Master's control over him remained things like that simply didn't register in his brain. After a second the Doctor got this and relaxed, a little.

Jack helped him when he tried to stand and the Doctor let him.

"You look terrible," the human pointed out. "Still sexy, but terrible. It would improve your looks greatly if you just stayed in bed and slept for a few hours. You can take mine, as this is a bit messy." So he'd noticed then, that genius!

But the Doctor shook his head.

"I want to take a shower," he mumbled. After a second Jack shrugged and lifted him effortlessly off the bed to carry him over to the bathroom. The Master snorted and left them to themselves.

-

Jack sat the Doctor down onto one of the plastic chairs the TARDIS had for some random reason placed in the large bathroom and quickly removed his own clothes while the almost pool-sized bathtub filled with water.

The Doctor hated being so weak and useless.

"Thank you, I can manage," he said pointedly but soon found out that he couldn't. Jack didn't even pay attention to him.

He turned the shower on as well before he slowly lowered the Doctor into the hot water. He found soap and a cloth and very carefully began to wash the Time Lord's abused body. After a while the Doctor dared to relax in the arms holding him from behind. He was exhausted, still angry at the Master, still miserable. The pain that filled about every part of his body made it hard to think clearly and the hot water that engulfed him eventually caused his mind to slip away further and further. He was half asleep when he finally realised that Jack's hands were roaming over his body in a way that had nothing to do with getting him clean.

"Bill?" he asked, somewhat groggily, and was only answered by a hand sliding between his legs. He flinched and pushed it away, managed to turn in Jack's arms so he was facing him. The look in the human's eyes was the same he'd seen hours before, the look of a person not even aware they weren't in control of their own actions.

The Doctor tried to get away but Jack pulled him back playfully and pressed a quick kiss onto his lips before pressing a finger into him, then another. The Doctor, still sore and torn from the last time, gave a hiss of pain and wished his head would stop spinning.

"Bill," he said firmly, cupping the time agents face in his hands and forcing him to too into his eyes. "Bill, stop it!"

It was no use – Jack didn't hear him, didn't get the meaning of his words, and the Doctor didn't dare going inside his head while he couldn't concentrate and the Master was already in there. He doubted, though, that his old friend had any idea what was going on right now.

The fingers disappeared, then a hand was wrapped around the Doctor's cock and a hot tongue ran over his nipple. Jack was trying to make this pleasurable for him but the Doctor was much too tense and in too much pain to appreciate the effort. But he pressed a kiss to the agents forehead and whispered the words "It's alright, it's alright" over and over again as he knew it wasn't Jack's fault, and when the human slid into him and slowly rocked into his body, under the spray of the still running shower, the Doctor only helplessly clung to him and bit his lips to stay silent. He felt sick.

Jack's strong hands kept him upright even after the last of his own strength hand left him. By the time Jack gently wrapped him into a towel and carried him back to a bed that was clean and smelled of gallifreyan spring the Doctor was barely aware of his surroundings anymore and Jack didn't have any conscious memory of what had just happened, except that he had helped the Doctor get clean and that he was very pissed at the Master.

The Doctor wasn't even aware he was whimpering quietly when Jack tucked him in. It had been a long time since it last hurt so much to breathe and his right heart sent waves of agony though his body every time it beat, which wasn't all that often. He vaguely remembered throwing up after getting out of the tub.

There was a constant noise in his head and only after a minute he understood that this was Jack's concerned voice, asking if there was anything he cold do to help him.

'_Just don't hurt me again,'_ the Doctor thought, then hoped he hadn't said it aloud, then realised that Jack wouldn't register it anyway. Poor Jack. He wouldn't see Jack, the real Jack, the Jack that called himself Jack, ever again.

Gentle fingers wiped away his tears, then stroked his hair. Poor Jack. He shouldn't be here. They should never have met. He should leave, now, and never come back. And so should the Master.

The Doctor wanted them to go and was scared they would.

A warm, strong hand wrapped around his.

"There must be something I can do!" Jack said, desperately and with no reason to feel guilty. He knew nothing.

"Bedside table," the Doctor rasped. "Top drawer." The hand disappeared and in the darkness behind his eyelids he was all alone.

"This?" Jack's voice sounded nine seconds later and the Doctor nodded without opening his eyes.

"Left arm," he whispered. A moment later he once again felt hot human hands on his fevered skin, felt the prick of the needle and then the pain dulled, became bearable, just. Listening to Jack's soothing voice his thoughts drifted and fell apart. He didn't even notice the world fading away.

-

Sometimes the Master felt like the universe was making fun of him. This was one of those times.

He had just begun seriously considering looking elsewhere for help for the Doctor as the alien timeship stubbornly refused to show up when it did. Just for a second.

The image on the scanner flickered briefly into existence and was gone again. It seemed like the machine was having trouble getting a hold of this world. It probably was damaged in some way, the Master guessed. Still, the fact that it had tried to get back indicated that, whatever these aliens wanted here, they weren't done yet. The Master smiled to himself. Maybe there was still hope.

He wouldn't mind, though, if they hurried up a little.

After eating a pizza a la TARDIS he slowly made his way over to the room he had occupied for his work, somewhere deep within the ship. He had rifled through the storage rooms for spare parts and some exotic components he'd been lucky to find, and every now and then spend some hours working on the device he hoped he wouldn't have to use. It was more of a hobby.

The Doctor's room wasn't on the way but somehow the Master ended up there. Glancing through the open door he saw the Doctor flat on the bed, looking positively lifeless, and Jack sitting beside him, holding his hand. How sappy. The Master grimaced, decided to go on and was inside the room one second later to check the Doctors pulse and his temperature. Okay, definitely went too far last night. The Master considered moving him to the infirmary, then decided against it.

Jack glared daggers at him.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't touch him," he said icily when the Master laid his hand on the Doctor's chest to check which heart wasn't beating.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion."

"I don't remember needing your permission to speak!" Jack spat. "Look at him! You knew he was ill and still – what? Raped him? I can see you're worried and yet you seem to enjoy hurting him!" Cold rage burned in his eyes and had the Doctor not lain between them the Master was sure he would have tried to strangle him. The idea made him smile. He answered the human's words by looking into his eyes while tenderly taking the Doctor's limp hand and licking the marks the belt had left on his wrist.

Jack stared at him. But his voice was surprisingly clam when he said:

"I think he's dying."

"He's not!" the Master snapped. "He's going to be fine, so stop being stupid!"

The look Jack gave him was calculating and the Master hated him.

"What exactly is he to you?" the time agent wanted to know. There were a million possible answers to that but the Master only told Jack what he needed to know.

"He's mine," he said.

He let go of the hand, got up and turned to the human.

"Stay with him and make sure he's okay," he said in his best you-will-obey-me voice. "Tell me if he gets worse.

And don't touch him," he added as an afterthought. Jack didn't react but the Master knew he had gotten the order. This species was so ridiculously easy to control. Too bad it had never worked with Jack's older self – something to do with technically being dead.

Or maybe he had just lost his brain somewhere along the way. With him you never knew.

The Master left the room without looking back.

-

Bill stayed with the Doctor for hours and hours and the alien didn't move. The human got hungry but decided to stay and watch over this man's sleep. He didn't know if it was the painkiller he'd given the Doctor earlier that had knocked him out or if he'd simply slipped into unconsciousness on his own. Whatever Harry had done to him, it had been too much for him.

Eventually Bill dozed off listening to the other's shallow breathing.

When he woke up the Doctor was awake as well, still weak but clearly annoyed by it and in a kind of bossy mode. Allowing no protest he sent Bill away to fetch some food but by the time the agent returned he was already asleep again, so Bill ate it on his own.

It took the Doctor two days to gather enough strength to stand on his own, but as soon as he could he was gone from his room and Bill didn't see him for another day. He avoided Harry as best he could and quickly got bored.

When he saw the Doctor again the man was sitting on the floor of a storage room, using his sonic screwdriver to build a small, chaotic looking device with a lot of blinking lights. He thanked Bill for his help and then asked him to leave. Not just the room but the TARDIS. Stop getting involved in things that were no concern of his.

He was quite rude about it.

Bill refused.

The Doctor wanted to know why he stayed and Bill couldn't answer. '_There's still a possibility of you being evil'_ didn't sound right and he hadn't thought of that for ages. He'd stayed here for far too long.

"Why do _you_ stay here?" Bill wanted to know.

"It's my ship," the Doctor pointed out.

"Okay, why don't you kick him out?"

The Doctor didn't answer for a long time. He didn't look at Bill.

Finally he said:

"I need to know he's alive."

Okay, that didn't make much sense. But Bill got an impression that the Doctor would rather not continue this conversation.

The words 'Do you love him?' remained unsaid.

"There is no reason for you to stay," the Doctor continued, his voice somewhat hard. "In fact, there are a lot reasons for you to go. One of them being me asking you to. My ship and all."

When Bill said he didn't trust Harry not to hurt him the Doctor snapped at him to stop treating him like a child.

Bill decided to leave him alone for the moment.

Altogether the Doctor's state hadn't improved much. Bill was acutely aware that he wouldn't live for much longer. He wondered why that thought hurt so much. He'd lost many friends in his life and this one he hardly even knew.

It still felt like failing.

He thought of Harry and his desperate denial and found he couldn't hate him quite so much for it.

But still enough to 'accidentally' trip and spill coffee over his legs the next time he met him in the kitchen.

-tbc

November 4, 2007


	12. Chapter 12

Bill looked down onto the screen integrated into the wrist device that contained his vortex manipulator and frowned. The readings on the small scanner told him that the alien spaceship had flickered into existence three times during the past few days. The longest stay had been sixteen seconds, but it was slowly getting more stable. Whatever problems they were facing inside, they would soon overcome them and then it was better if Bill was there to stop them before they could do whatever evil they had in mind. But how to get there in time? Using his ship it would take ages, so that left the vortex manipulator. Unfortunately the thing wasn't exactly reliable when it came to exact landing. Just a few meters to the left and he'd crash into the ship's energy field and get vaporised, and that was a fate he'd rather avoid, thank you very much. And there was still the question how to get into the ship. His device would not bring him through the shield – that was another instant death – and they would hardly let him in if he knocked. And once inside he'd still have to figure out what these aliens wanted here and how to stop them if necessary.

Well, he'd better think of something, and soon. With a sigh he snapped shut the little screen and leaned back against the console – whatever that one was good for. In all his time here neither the Doctor nor Harry had ever used it. Maybe it was just decoration, but then the Doctor used to spend a lot time working on its insides.

Right now it served as a (freaking uncomfortable) place to lean against. Bill stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought. He couldn't help thinking that over his involvement with Harry and the Doctor he hadn't paid enough attention to his original assignment, and now he was hard pressed to find a way before it was too late.

"You look like a man with a problem," a cheerful voice stated and Bill turned his head just in time to see the Doctor stroll into the room, hands in his pockets and a grin on his face. He stopped beside the time agent and his gaze fell on the deactivated screen on the console and his own reflection. "And look at that!" he exclaimed. "I look just like a man with a solution!"

-

The Doctor's good mood and seeming health lasted for half a day. For the first time since the day they'd met Bill got an impression of how he must have been before he'd been ill and he regretted that he would never get to know this man any better. His energetic cheerfulness was infecting and Bill, short one problem, willingly let himself be fooled for as long he could and even made his peace with Harry who was still pissed after the coffee incident.

They had dinner together and the Doctor did his best. Bill could see him trying, but after a few bites he gave up, abandoning his food with a smile and thanks and claiming to be just not hungry. After dinner he curled up on the couch in the living room, dozed off and didn't wake up.

During the next hour his temperature rose to almost twenty-five degrees. Bill, who had learned that it would be around fifteen or sixteen normally, could hardly believe he was still alive, but Harry reassured him that beings like the Doctor were very robust. They could take fever this high.

Just not for very long.

Bill still didn't know what species the Doctor was. He'd scanned him and got no result. His device couldn't even tell what time he was from – according to it he was from no time at all. Bill wasn't sure he even believed in the existence of elementals but he knew for sure if this man died it would be a terrible loss for the universe.

Unfortunately there was little hope he wouldn't.

Another hour later the Doctor lay convulsing in Harry's arms, coughing blood. When he finally opened his eyes he was barely coherent and whimpering in pain. They gave him as many painkillers as they dared and neither of them left his side until his state had stabilized. Harry was frantic. He did his best to act unconcerned and wave everything off but Bill could tell from the way he stayed with his friend (lover?) instead of leaving Bill to watch over him as he usually did that he was scared out of his wits.

It was probably a good thing the alien machine didn't appear once during this time, because right now Bill couldn't have cared less.

-

The Doctor lost every remaining sense of time as he drifted between dreams and waking. He couldn't tell how long he'd been here, couldn't tell if he'd already spoken to Jack or if that had been a dream – his reality consisted solely of the pyjama that clung uncomfortably to his body, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue and the fact that he couldn't breathe. Even the pain seemed distant and dull. Once he thought he was in the infirmary – he didn't care enough to open his eyes but this wasn't his own bed he was lying in and then something was placed over his face and he could breathe a little easier. When he woke again he was back in his own bed, feeling grateful for that, but unsure if he'd really ever left it. He was feeling a little better, but too weak to move. Someone was stroking his hair and holding his hand and when he discovered that this was the Master, not Jack, he nearly cried.

Time passed.

He awoke in the dark, slowly rising from the abyss of his dreams to the feeling of someone pulling away the trousers of his pyjama, hot hands on his bare skin. Not understanding he tried to crawl away, but the hands pulled him back, turned him onto his back and parted his legs. Only a distant part of his mind connected the familiar pain that followed to the memory of being fucked. Gentle hands touched his face, the person above him pressing a kiss to his lips while slowly rocking in and out of him (this had to be Jack then, the part of him that was still there realised), whispering soothing nothings. The Doctor was too weak to struggle and too exhausted to care. He hardly understood what was going on. Something heavy was pressing him down and something was hurting him and everything felt distant and unimportant as he slowly drifted away.

It felt like only a short while until he came awake again, but he couldn't really trust his sense of time anymore. Blinking in the light falling into the room through the open door he tried to figure out where he was and what of the confused memories that ran through his head was true and what was merely a product of his fever-addled imagination. Nothing made sense. There was a voice, shouting, and after a while he accepted it as real.

His bones and joints hurt when he sat up, his head was pounding and there was a sharp pain jolting through his insides. He gasped, but pushed himself up until he could see the door and the two figures inside.

The shirt of his pyjama that had been pushed up to reveal his stomach and chest slid down again but he was still naked from the waist down. His blanket had fallen to the ground. His thighs were sticky with blood and semen. For one moment the Doctor felt a terror he couldn't place. It mingled with the pain he felt and made him retch.

He couldn't quite remember when he'd last felt his right heart beat.

It was the Master that was making all that noise, cursing loudly to himself as he dragged a half-naked and motionless Jack from the room. The human was pale and there was a trail of blood running down his face. The sight brought the Doctor fully back to his senses.

His legs failed him after two steps but by the time he fell to the floor he had already reached the other men. Cradling Jack's head in his trembling arms he checked for a pulse and sighed with relief when he found it.

"Did you hit him on the head?" he asked in a breathless, angry voice.

The Master stared down at them, fury in his eyes.

"I had to stop him." His dark growl only fuelled the Doctor's anger.

"Bullshit!" he spat. "You control his mind. He would have stopped if you'd simply told him to." There was a hint of defiance in the Master's glare and the Doctor shook his head, exasperated. "I thought you had more self-control than that!"

"Don't act like he didn't deserve it!" the Master hissed back. "You're in no condition for this!"

"Like that ever stopped _you_!" But the Doctor could see the truth in the Master's eyes, the truth the other never wanted him to know: He was scared of losing him. Even now the Master still couldn't accept that the Doctor was dying and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

The realisation hurt more than he'd thought it would. It didn't change the way things were.

"This is entirely your fault," the Doctor said, because it was. "He only did what you made him do. He's innocent, you're guilty. It's that simple."

"This wouldn't have happened if he'd be able to restrain himself a little more!" the Master bolted.

"He was. You took that from him." Jack was heavy in his arms and the Doctor carefully lowered his head to the ground, pulling the fallen blanket closer to use as a pillow. He missed the days when he'd been strong enough to lift a human bigger than Jack without any effort. "You could have simply ordered him to leave me alone. Isn't he meant to obey you?"

The Doctor grinded his teeth and didn't look at the Master while he spoke. The whole idea seemed perverse to him, always had. For the Doctor mind-control was more or less the worst thing anyone could do to another being.

For the Master it was a hobby.

"Doesn't work that way," the Master admitted, kneeling down beside them. "I can only directly control him for a short time. When I first broke his defences I removed his self-control, so he would take you without second thoughts when he felt like it."

"And you didn't stop to think that maybe he might feel like it when you're not there to stop him." The Doctor used his already soiled shirt to wipe the blood off Jack's face. He was only knocked out, but the Master could just as well have killed him. Damage to the timeline aside, Jack was the Doctor's friend, and him getting punished for the Master's stupidity was simply not acceptable.

"I'll remove the hypnotic block as soon as possible," the Master mumbled, the closest anyone might ever get to an apology. But the Doctor didn't think it would be that simple.

"If you do that, will he remember what he did under your influence?"

"Naturally."

"Then don't."

There was a short silence.

"Come again?" the Mater said.

"Don't make him remember. After all this you can't do that to him. This lack of self-control on his part only concerns me, doesn't it? He won't do this to anyone else?"

"I think not, but…"

"No 'but'. Just be more careful from now on. In one or two years, when he loses his memory, the block will disappear, and by the time he meets you again his mind is resistant to any telepathic influence anyway." The Doctor paused, because these days he actually did have to stop for breath. The room was spinning around him. Still, he continued before the Master had a chance to say anything. "It'll be best if we just go elsewhere and leave him behind. Why are we still here anyway?"

"Because I haven't yet managed to kick him out of the TARDIS," the Master lied and the Doctor wondered why he'd asked even as he fell forward into the Master's arms. He felt himself being picked up and carried away. After a while he was lowered onto a soft surface but this wasn't his own room and it didn't smell like the hated infirmary and the Master kept holding him even as he lay on the bed.

"What about Jack?" he mumbled, his own voice sounding terribly far away. Still he found the strength for another few words. "You didn't leave him lying there in the doorway, did you?"

"Of course not," the Master chuckled, running his hands through the Doctor's hair.

"Liar," the Doctor whispered without opening his eyes.

"How can you tell?"

"You're talking."

If the Master said anything in return he didn't hear it anymore.

-

The next time he woke up the Doctor felt even more disoriented than before. He stared at the ceiling, the unfamiliar, blank walls. He was in the Master's bedroom and it was dark. Why was he in the Master's bedroom?

He couldn't tell how long he'd been here but it felt like very long.

He wasn't in much pain, everything felt just numb, distant. A part of him was coherent enough to realise that another raging fever was burning away his strength, dulling his thoughts. He didn't care. He was just so very thirsty.

The TARDIS was singing to him, in his mind.

As he got out of bed he noticed he was wearing a clean pyjama, not quite sure why this was remarkable.

In the corridor the lights were dimmed. Must be night outside, he thought, then realised how ridiculous this thought was. His legs treated to give up and he had to rest. Where was he going again? Oh, right. Kitchen.

Strange noises echoed through the corridors. They got louder the closer the Doctor came to the kitchen. A few minutes later he was standing in the doorway to the living room, staring at the back of the couch without thinking anything.

The couch was of earth origin, one of those practical things that could be turned into a bed. Obviously that had been done because there was no way anyone could move that much on such a small spot.

Formless shapes were moving on the couch, largely hidden from view by its back and the near darkness of the room. Then the movement of the formless shapes stopped, as did the noise. Jack's head appeared, his hair ruffled and his cheeks flushed. He spotted the Doctor and said something. Then, suddenly, he was standing beside him, hand on the Doctor's forehead, concern written all over his face. Asking what was wrong, what he was doing here. His words barely made sense. The Master was sitting on the couch, watching them, equally naked. The Doctor stared blankly at Jack.

"Water," he murmured.

"Right," Jack said, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and gently lead him over to the couch. The Doctor wanted to go to the kitchen, to get some water. He tried to tell Jack, but couldn't find his voice.

Then Jack was gone and the Doctor was sitting on his couch, kept upright by the Master's arms, his head on the Master's shoulder. He was already drifting away when someone placed a cub of cold water to his dry lips. The Doctor swallowed its contents greedily and was asleep by the time Jack asked if he wanted more.

-

The first thing the Master thought when he woke up was that in all this time he'd never slept with the Doctor in his arms, not like this. Rolling over to have a better look at his friend who was lying still and pale on the couch-turned-bed he decided that this wasn't the worst way to start the day.

It would have been even better without the human curled up at the Doctor's other side. Oh, and the Master was still naked and it was freezing. Not perfect, then. But not bad either.

After a while he rolled half out of the bed to reach his clothes that lay scattered on the floor and get the sonic screwdriver for a medical scan. Just to make sure.

Two minutes later he was on his way to the infirmary, the Doctor hanging limply in his arms. Jack was behind him, putting on his clothes as best he could while speed-walking through the corridors. Clothes would have been a good idea. The Master would remember them next time.

Fortunately he found a spare pair of trousers and a shirt on one of the beds in the infirmary – it was better than nothing, and even his size. TARDIS' where probably the most genius invention ever. Ship and housewife in one – who could ask for more?

The Doctor woke up while the Master slipped into his clothes. He seemed a bit more awake than last evening and right now that was probably a bad thing.

"What's wrong?" he asked weakly, trying to sit up.

"Your body is wrong," the Master explained. "It's failing, totally. Don't you feel it?"

The Doctor only looked at him, uncomprehending.

"It's been this bad before."

"Not for so long. It's not getting any better this time, only worse." The Master started roaming through closets and drawers. "Stay where you are. I'm going to perform surgery, I have to."

If possible the Doctor went even paler.

"That's not necessary," he said. "Just wait a few days and I'll be fine."

The Master shook his head.

"Not this time. You're dying, right here, right now. And you know it!"

"Then let me die!" the Doctor rasped, stood and would have fallen had the Master not caught him. "Leave me alone!" he demanded, fighting against the other's grip. "I don't want you to…" He fell silent and went limp. The Master put the injection with the narcotic aside and hoisted him back onto the bed.

"Come here!" he ordered to Jack who had watched from the doorway. "I'll need your assistance."

"What for?" the human wanted to know even as he came over. "Whatever you do, you can't save him in the long run. Why prolong his suffering?"

"You sound like a fighter for animal rights."

"I'm serious! Why can't you let him go? He's dying."

"That's neither your decision nor his!" the Master snapped. They were only wasting time here. "Now help me!"

-

In the end Bill did help, in return getting to see much more of the insides of an unknown species than he'd ever wanted to. It took hours. When they were done Harry pulled off his gloves and walked away without looking back. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking – or feeling. Bill stayed, sitting between the Doctor and the machines keeping him alive. Staring down at the pale face beneath the oxygen mask for a long time.

"What have we done to you?" he wondered.

Eventually he fell asleep. When he woke up Harry was back, but ignoring him. Bill's back hurt from sitting in a chair for half a day. The Doctor was awake and weakly returning the squeeze of Bill's fingers.

"We had to remove one of your hearts," Harry was informing him. "It was dead. Would have killed you."

The Doctor tried to say something and Harry removed the mask to let him.

"Which heart?" Bill had to strain to hear his voice.

"The right one."

"Oh." The Doctor's eyes slowly fell shut. "That's bad, isn't it?" He passed out before either of them could answer.

Harry placed the mask back over his face and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Go and get some coffee," he ordered without looking up. The human would have protested but understood that Harry was merely asking him to leave them alone for a moment. He got up, his muscles screaming with relief.

On his way the kitchen he passed the living room in which he'd spend most of the previous day. The world had seemed a much better place then, except that he'd bumped his head without remembering how and Harry had been pissed at him again, for no particular reason. Well, they'd made their peace…

The couch was back to its normal shape, thanks to the ship Bill suspected. It was awesome like that.

In the kitchen he made coffee and grabbed some food he ate without appetite. Then he opened the screen of his wrist device and did his daily check for alien spaceships.

There it was, in the same spot as always, large and powerful and stable. It had been there for an hour at least.

This was it.

The time agent's fingers trembled when he snapped the screen shut and clenched into fists one second later. Well. Time to go.

He didn't say anything when he went back to the infirmary to bring Harry a cup of coffee. He placed it on one of the tables and left in silence.

Harry took no notice of him. Bill looked back at them, the dying alien on the bed and the other alien watching over him and felt regret and determination.

"I'm sorry," he whispered and closed the door.

-tbc

November 8, 2007


	13. Chapter 13

When he moved something in his back creaked – it was what pulled the Master back to reality an told him that he had spend a long, long while sitting motionless on the edge of the bed. He had no recollection of that time. Shaking his head to clear it and get rid of the feeling of unreality he carefully placed the Doctor's hand back on the sheet. He didn't remember taking it.

The Doctor was still unconscious, showed no signs of waking up anytime soon. His life signs were weak and not improving. The Master took a deep, shuddering breath – Jack had been right: They hadn't saved the Doctor, just removed one immediate treat to his life by inflicting the stress of surgery on his body. He wouldn't live for another three days.

"If only you finally started fighting," the Master whispered to the still figure on the bed. Louder he added: "I'll be damned if Jack's the last person to ever fuck you."

The Master had to admit the Doctor going down so fast was partially his fault. If only he had accepted sooner…

No. There was no point wasting time by dwelling in the past. The Master got up, stretched his limbs and left the room. The coffee Jack had left on the table for him had long since gotten cold.

Out in the corridor he wasted another moment feeling helpless and unsure what to do, followed by a few seconds of crippling desperation.

This was not the way to go. He gave himself a mental kick in the ass and made his way to the console room, the need to do _something_ taking over. By the time he got there he was almost running.

Switching on the monitors the Master made a mental list of what to do next. First he'd run another scan to see if that damn spaceship finally had been kind enough to come back for good. Not much hope for that as he had programmed the TARDIS to alert him should it return and stay stable for more than half a minute, but he checked anyway. Just to make sure. After the scan he would…

He stopped right there, because there it was, and had been for a few hours. The Master nearly laughed. The universe making fun of him? It so was!

Okay. The new plan was simple. Travel there by TARDIS, take over the ship, use it to save the Doctor. Shouldn't take long very long. It _couldn't_ take very long because he didn't have very long. (But there was still the question why the TARDIS had ignored his order. The Doctor came to his mind, but he couldn't have known about the ship and the Master's plans – he would have said something, he always did. Yet the thought left the Master feeling very slightly uncomfortable and nervous.)

As he went to fetch his coat and various screwdrivers the Master cursed his luck. It would have been generous of that machine to return before he had to cripple the Doctor and weaken him for the rest of this regeneration. Still, coming back now was better than not coming back at all. The Doctor would recover soon and his second heart would grow back the next time he regenerated. Which he would be able to. Even if this particular body was lost, the Doctor was not.

The Master didn't quite understand why this sudden rush of hope and excitement scared him so.

He was impatient to leave, filled with the paranoid suspicion that something would go wrong again if he didn't act immediately. Still there was something he had to do first.

Back in the infirmary he rummaged through the closets until he found a pair of padded restraints he fastened around the Doctor's thin, bruised wrists after connecting them to the bed. He knew very well this was probably the most unnecessary thing he'd ever done but after the last time he wanted to make sure the Doctor _stayed_ in bed. With him, you never knew. (He might wake up, find himself alone and go looking for the others, especially if he thought the Master was up to something. He might die the moment he tried to stand but when had that ever stopped him?) He was stupid like that.

The Doctor's face was pale save for the dark rings around his eyes. His cheeks were hollow and his skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. He didn't stir when the Master bent down to place a soft kiss on his forehead.

"You're not going anywhere this time, are you?" he whispered sadly, gently squeezing the Doctor's fingers one last time. When he left he didn't look back.

-

As expected it was no problem for the TARDIS to get through the energy shield surrounding the other ship. The Master left the blue box in a long, deserted corridor full of pipes that weren't dripping but could just as well have been. He made his way through the ship in a hurry, following the readings he got from the Doctor's sonic screwdriver. It led him deeper and deeper into the ship, right to the engines. This was promising, but not exactly useful at the moment.

The closer he got to the centre of the ship the more people he met – green skinned humanoids mainly, but a few members of other species as well. He didn't recognize many of them and didn't care where they came from. They eyed him suspiciously but did nothing to stop him, and the Master, in return, ignored them.

Until he turned to them to ask for the way to the command centre. They only stared at him, uncomprehending, and the Master realised they didn't understand his words. Of course. The TARDIS wasn't translating as long as the Doctor was unconscious. And even with his supreme Time Lord mind the Master hadn't yet had a chance to learn their language as he had never heard them speak. This was going to be difficult.

He was almost relieved when armed guards appeared to take them to their leader.

-

Their leader, it turned out, was a number of corpse-like figures in plastic capsules. The Master snorted.

And had his screwdriver taken away one second later.

"Hey!" he protested, as it had played a rather vital part in his taking-over-the-spaceship plan. "Give that back! It's harmless, I swear! I come in peace."

we will not be fooled by a tool such as that again

A voice in his head, or rather, many voices. This was getting better and better. The Master carefully locked away all treacherous thoughts – like how he might use this particular ship to conquer the galaxy once the Doctor didn't need him anymore – as he slowly walked round the semi-circle of transparent coffins.

"So, you're the leaders of this lot, then."

we are

"Just out of interest: what are you doing here?"

we have come to fuel our weapons

"By sucking the life out of people." The Master nodded. "Very charming."

he told you?

This way of communication wasn't very useful when it came to posing questions and the Master needed at moment to realise he'd just heard one. He was about to ask another question in return when the answer came to him in the way these beings had spoken of the sonic screwdriver.

"Oh, no!" he exclaimed. "No! He was here, wasn't he? The Doctor came here when we left him alone and he did something to your ship. That's why you disappeared for so long."

he ran, the voices in his head confirmed.

The Master smiled grimly.

"Yeah," he said. "He does that."

And once again the Doctor had sabotaged his plans. Had he known what the Master was up to or simply tried to protect the humans in this area? Not that it mattered – whatever he'd done to the ship, it hadn't been enough, and this time the Master would have the last word.

you will not run

"I wasn't planning to."

your knowledge will serve us – we will become one

"That I wasn't planning either."

The aliens in the room that were able to move freely had positioned themselves in front of every exit, blocking them. The nearest guard was poking his weapon in the Master's back. The Time Lord withstood the urge to roll his eyes.

If you link a number of idiots it doesn't make them a genius, apparently.

"So, you're just going to put me into one of those tubes?" he asked.

As soon as one arrives

"It seems there are several here."

all occupied – can't be removed from them – would die

This was interesting.

"I see. You're one, but still not a singe component of you is willing to sacrifice its existence." He shook his head in mock despair. "That's why societies don't work."

Another reason why things often didn't work the way they should was that most people tended to be dangerously stupid. Not that the Master was complaining – the fact that they had taken the sonic screwdriver from him but ignored the laser screwdriver was not something he minded.

He took out the two armed men first and then, when all the others moved closer like marionettes on strings he killed them as well. They wouldn't be useful to him and he didn't need anyone to stab him in the back while he was preoccupied.

All the time the collective was screaming in his mind.

After the last moving creature had fallen the Master went over to the transparent coffins where the masters of this ship and these people lay, all powerful but immobilized, and pulled up the lid of the nearest one.

"Now," he said, pointing his screwdriver at the figure inside. "Let's find out how much you really want to live."

-

Just as expected the collective had alerted the other members of its crew and called for more armed men. The Master managed to talk them out of it before they arrived. Instead he ordered for the extra capsule to be brought to the command centre and connected it to the others in a way that certainly had never been considered by the creators of this machine. Now he was on his way back to the TARDIS to get the Doctor. He would put him inside that thing, then have the others suck out the life of the humans in the nearest city. Instead of refilling their weapons, though, the energy would be used to heal the Doctor. He would still need a few days to recover, the Master suspected – not that he'd ever done something like this before. The Master planed to leave him in 'Bill's' care and be gone by the time to Doctor regained consciousness and the ability to by pissed. He would leave him the TARDIS and take this ship instead, let it take him to some place where he could finally have some _fun_ again.

No more playing nurse. Bye-bye, worries!

He hadn't felt this good in ages.

And then something exploded.

The Master felt the ship shake, was nearly thrown off his feet. Infernal noise reached his ears. He understood at once what was going on, but he needed a few seconds to accept it.

By the time of the second, much closer explosion he was running. Reaching TARDIS he struggled with the lock and closed the door just in time to escape the wall of fire that shot through the corridor. In here he didn't feel the explosions but he made his way over to the console anyway and set the coordinates for a very short jump, and in an angry gesture wiped away the tears that were running down his face.

He stepped out of the TARDIS just in time to see the shell of the spaceship get torn apart from the inside, scattering bits and pieces over several hundred meters. It was only a matter of time now until countless nosy humans came to investigate in this otherwise deserted area. The Master couldn't care less.

Jack stood close to the spot they had parked his ship last time, looking down into the valley that had suddenly turned into a crater. Over the noise of the explosion he hadn't heard the TARDIS arrive and when he turned around he had less than a second for a look of surprise and shock before the Master punched him in the face and broke his nose.

The force-field of the TARDIS was protecting them from the shockwave of the explosion but not from the noise. So the Master couldn't tell if Jack was saying anything while the Master kicked him again and again as he lay on the ground. He only knew that he, himself, was screaming.

Finally the roar died down and the Master stopped to catch his breath.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" he yelled, and it had been a long time since he'd last felt such rage.

Jack pushed himself up to a sitting position, blood running down his face. The Master would have liked to kill him and even the treat to the timeline almost didn't stop him.

"I did what I had to do," the time agent said, his voice sounding calm and a little sad.

"You killed him!" The Master pointed into the burning crater. "That thing there could have saved him and you blew it up!"

"_That thing there_ would have killed an entire city," Jack pointed out, and added: "The Doctor asked me to do it."

The Master stared at him.

Jack lifted his hand to show him the device he was holding, a small, chaotic thing with blinking lights that seemed to serve no particular purpose.

"He gave this to me," he explained. "It enabled my vortex manipulator to get me through the force field protecting the ship. I connected a bomb to the engines and set the timer."

"But it could have saved him!" the Master repeated helplessly.

Jack didn't look at him.

"Yeah," he nodded. "He knew that."

"And so did you." Taking out his laser screwdriver the Master seriously considered shooting Jack on the spot. Screw the timeline – it would be much better off without this idiotic, treacherous human anyway!

Then Jack said, reasonably: "Killing all those people would have been too high a price to pay for his life," and the Master nearly laughed.

"I'd like you to repeat those words in a few years," he sneered.

"Do you really believe the Doctor would want that?" Jack continued, ignoring the words that made no sense to him.

"Who _cares _what he wants?" The Master turned on his heels and went back to the TARDIS before he could do anything stupid, leaving the human sitting in the dust. Oh, Jack was so going to pay for this! Too bad the Master hadn't known of it when Jack had been his prisoner during the year he ruled the Earth. He would have found so much more creative ways of killing him!

He closed the doors, locking them. Just him and the Doctor now, and the emergency plan the Master had hoped he wouldn't have to resort to.

He didn't check on the Doctor, too angry to face him yet. The TARIDS functioning told him his old friend was still alive and that was all he needed to know.

Instead he went to the room where he had stored his little project. He'd added anti-gravity projectors for easier transportation but even like this it took some effort to jockey it trough the narrow corridors. By the time he reached the infirmary his anger had cooled down but not lessened.

The device was more than two meters in length and one meter wide. It was a block full of pieces of machinery from a thousand worlds, and on top of it something that looked like a coffin made of glass. He hadn't had a chance to test it but knew it would work.

He also knew the Doctor wouldn't like it. He didn't like it very much himself.

But, well. That idiot had brought this upon himself.

As expected the other Time Lord had not moved during his absence but he woke up when he Master removed the unnecessary restrains from his wrists.

His unfocused gaze fell on the device.

"What is that?" he whispered, needing a few attempts to form the words. The Master considered not telling him, but there already was suspicion in the other's eyes. So he said:

"The solution to problems you caused. It will put you in suspended animation, freeze you in time, and keep you safe until I've found a way to heal you."

The Doctor's eyes widened and the suspicion turned to naked fear.

"No," the croaked out. "No!"

"It's the only way," the Master said mercilessly and started to disconnect the machines surrounding the bed.

"Please don't!" the Doctor pleaded, his eyes filling with tears. "I can't bear that, please, just let me go. Let me go…" His voice gave out, but he still struggled weakly as the Master pulled him into an upright position, touching him gently and carefully like something incredibly fragile.

"Shh," he murmured, stroking the other's hair and keeping him still, his anger ebbing away and turning into something he couldn't name. "It's okay. You won't even notice it, I promise." But that was a lie and they both knew it. Time Lords noticed. The universe moved on around them, time kept flowing without them being part of it, and on a very subconscious level they sensed it. There would be no conscious memory afterwards, just a feeling of something being very, very wrong. Some had been driven mad by this – no time passed for them between the moment they were put in suspended animation and the moment they rose from it so they wouldn't consciously know it even happened – except that they were fine one moment and insane the next, the sensation of being out of sync with time and space pushing them over the edge. Not the Doctor, though – he was too strong for that, he'd be able to take it. Still, in the non-existent moment that was about to come the Master would put him through hell.

He was actually sorry for that.

Eventually the Doctor fell still. The Master held him one and a half seconds longer than he had to, feeling a singe heart beat frantically in a desperate attempt to keep this weak, failing body alive just a little longer. When the Master carefully placed him into the coffin-like box the Doctor was barely breathing. The Master lifted the other's limp hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles before he close the lid.

"You are not going to win this game," he whispered and switched on the machine. Motionless as the Doctor had been there was no obvious effect. Only now the very faint rise and fall of his thin chest had stopped completely and the Doctor looked disconcertingly like a corpse.

There were still traces of tears on his face.

The infirmary was cramped with the device inside and the Master took the time to move it into a small, empty room nearby where he could better tend to it should the need occur. He wasn't in a hurry anymore – weather he needed a minute or a hundred years didn't matter. Smiling bitterly to himself he stayed with the Doctor for another minute before he slowly made his way back to the console room. If there was one person he didn't want to see right now that would be Captain Jack Harkness. If there was one person who could possibly (hopefully/maybe) help him it would be him as well. Life was cruel like that.

Sighing deeply the Master set the coordinates for the twenty-first century.

-end

November 12, 2007


End file.
